Born To Die
by lilylittle
Summary: Shelby men were not worthy of being loved by a good woman. Except he had been. Tommy/OC.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **1916**

The letter shook in her hand as the word printed on the paper began to blur from the tears filling her eyes. Her mind tried to digest the words forming sentences that delivered the news that changed her life forever. There were words that stuck out more than others and burned her mind as she closed her eyes, allowing the tears to form a track down her cheeks where they failed to stop. Her chest was tight, as if all the air within her lungs had been squeezed out with every quick breath she took. She felt dizzy as she tried to wrap her head around the news, and she couldn't seem to calm her breathing down. Tommy always seemed to help her when she got this way, and now he was gone.

Part of her understood that this was an outcome of war but there was no way of preparing for something as devastating as this. Tommy had often brought the subject up in conversation but it had always been too painful to think about let alone talk openly about it. She always believed he would come back and they would be able to move away and start a new life together where marriage and children were part of their future. But the plans they had made would remain just that; plans that would never be completed.

Tommy was dead. And he wasn't coming back.

And that was when it hit her like a freight train and the pain and heartbreak overwhelmed her. She cried and cried, broken on the floor, until no more tears fell from her eyes.

She couldn't stay here. Life without Tommy would be unbearable and to live surrounded by other people mourning his loss would be too painful for her to handle. She had loved him with all of her heart, and there was nothing keeping her here. The streets of Birmingham held too many memories that were now excruciating reminder of the man she had lost to the war. It was bittersweet to have lived such a life with Tommy so far, and for him to be taken from her before the next chapter of their life could begin. Tommy had filled her life with so much light that sometimes she had to look away. But her world was dark now, all light and colour draining away with the tears she shed.

Tommy's return had been etched into her mind for some time now, and she had planned to hold him closely, feeling his heart beat against her chest and feel his warm breath on her neck. She had understood that war would most likely change him and she was ready for his return, whether he returned the same Tommy she loved or a slightly different Tommy. Except life was cruel and he wouldn't come back to her.

She thought back to the memories they had shared, and felt her heart ache. She remembered walking hand in hand with him in the middle of the night knowing that his presence was all she needed to feel safe; dancing under the moon in nothing but her night dress; having her first kiss with Tommy on her doorstep; making love by candlelight and experiencing all of him; meeting his eye and seeing a smirk tug at his mouth and feeling the love radiate throughout her body for him. All of that was part of her past now.

She sat at the desk and scrawled ink against paper, putting everything she felt down onto the page as tears mixed with the black ink making it run slightly. She hoped that Polly would understand her reasons for leaving, for she knew just how much Tommy's death would affect her. Her world was falling apart. And so she packed everything that she owned into the small suitcase and slipped the letter under Polly's door.

And with a broken heart, she left the black smoke of Birmingham in her past.


	2. Empty Streets

Author's Note: Hello! I was introduced to Peaky Blinders a few days ago and I watched the entire first season within a couple of hours. I absolutely love it! It wasn't long before the cogs in my head started moving and before I knew it, I had a story idea. I was hesitant to upload the prologue as I've only just started watching the second season, but I couldn't stop myself. So here we go! This story is going to be full of emotion and quite heavy in some places. I really hope you enjoy this and I do hope you leave me a review as I would love to know what you think! 

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**Chapter One**

 **Four Years Later**

The war had changed the men who returned on such a grand scale that life was never quite the same anymore. Those who were fortunate – or unfortunate, as Tommy had often believed – to return from war were shadows of their former selves. As he walked through the streets he knew like the back of his hand, he knew that every man who slept in the houses lining the streets were all dealing with monsters created and brought back from war.

In the dying light of day, he would walk the streets. It allowed him a few moments to think away from the loud voices of his family members. It gave him some breathing space after a long and tiring day before he would return to his room where nights were a sleepless battle. Since returning from war, he'd been lonely and most nights – if not all of them since – were filled with different women who filled that void in his life, albeit temporarily. It always left him feeling even more lonelier once the women pulled their lingerie back up and pocketed the money before leaving him alone in the room. It was a vicious cycle of fulfilling that need of being intimate with someone without the hurt that came with loving someone. He had loved so greatly, all of which he had lost. It hurt more than he cared to admit for Martha had left a huge hole in his life. To find out that she was no longer waiting for his safe return was horrible and soul destroying. She had left without leaving him a letter as to why she left, she hadn't told Aunt Pol about her decision, nothing. And he did what any other man would have done in his situation: he moved on with his life. Or at least, he tried to.

In the darkness, he would think of her. And in moments like this, where he was alone with the only company being the cigarette he smoked, she would always come to mind. It was hard not to think about her for she was his life before the war. There was no trace of her anywhere, as if all sign of her existence were just created by him. He wondered where she was, how she was doing, whether she was well. There so many questions he wanted to ask that no one knew the answers to, but he had to remember one thing. No one had made her leave and it had been her decision to. He had to acknowledge that fact, and deal with her decision to not return even though it hurt him.

He hesitated outside his house and thought for a moment. He needed a drink, and a stiff one at that. Turning around and going back the way he came, he allowed his feet to carry him towards the Garrison pub. He pushed the door open and the scent of ale and cigarettes filled his senses, and he allowed a rare smile to form on his mouth. He glanced at the patrons in the pub and saw a few drunkards scattered across the pub, nursing a glass of their choice of beverage as they drank their worries and stresses away. His eyes moved across the pub and fell upon the pretty barmaid who was already pouring him a drink.

She looked up at him and smiled before moving the filled glass towards him. He walked towards her and sat down on the bar stool, his hand lifting the glass to his mouth where he took a big gulp.

"Bad day?" Grace asked, her Irish accent filling the silence. She observed him for a moment.

"Somethin' like that," he said, taking another gulp until his glass was empty.

"I'm all ears," she offered, to which he shook his head.

"Some things ain't meant to be talk about, just thought about," Tommy replied, motioning for the bottle.

Grace smirked, placing the bottle on the bar in front of him. "I didn't expect you to be full of philosophical quotes today, Thomas Shelby."

Tommy rolled his eyes but a smirk tugged at his mouth. "Full of surprises, me."

"That you are," Grace said.

"Get yourself a glass," Tommy ordered and Grace nodded. Over the months of knowing Tommy, she understood when to follow his orders. She placed a clean glass upon the bar, and Tommy didn't do much except pout the whiskey into her glass when she went to take a seat next to him. He noticed and turned his head towards her. "I didn't tell ya that I wanted company…"

Grace glanced at him, offended. Tommy noticed disappointed sliver over her face.

"I'm joking," Tommy said, offering an apologetic smile towards her. Grace breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat next to him. Tommy reached out and pulled the stool that Grace was sitting on closer to him.

They sat in silence for a moment as they emptied their glasses. Tommy poured her another drink but left his own empty. Grace noticed but didn't say a word.

"You ever been in love, Grace?"

Grace glanced over at Tommy and watched him for a moment. He continued to stare forward, but he knew she was looking at him. It wasn't a question she ever thought she would ever hear coming out of Tommy Shelby's mouth. It came as quite the shock.

"I…" she trailed off. "No. I haven't."

Tommy nodded slowly. He remained silent as she waited for his own answer. When his voice never filled her ears, she found herself asking him the question he had just asked her. As the question hung in the air waiting to be answered, Grace noticed that Tommy had tensed up. He tapped the side of the glass with his fingernails, creating a repetitive tap. He poured himself another drink and before it could settle in the glass, he knocked it back.

"Once," Tommy said, quietly. "Before the war."

"I didn't know that about you," said Grace.

"Childhood sweethearts and all that," Tommy offered a faint smile trying to convince Grace that he was okay to talk about it. Except she knew he wasn't, despite him bringing up the question, for his offered smile never quite reached his eyes like it often did. "She left me."

"I'm sorry," Grace whispered, placing her hand over his. He looked over at her at that moment, his cold blue eyes boring into her. He furrowed his brow.

"Don't ever feel sorry for me, Grace. I ain't a man who should be loved."

Grace could not take her eyes off him, and it seemed that in that moment nether could Tommy.

"Every man and every woman who walks this earth deserves to be loved, Tommy. Deep down, you know that," Grace whispered, her breath hitching in her throat. She felt butterflies battle for dominance in her stomach and she realised that her hand remained over Tommy's hand.

She moved her eyes away from Tommy's gaze and moved off her seat, feeling his stare never once moving from her. She returned to her place behind the bar and took her glass away. She knew she had done the right thing when she moved away from him, as she wouldn't have been able to control herself if he looked at her like that for much longer. She yearned to be that close to him again and to have his eyes looking into her own the way he had. The past few weeks saw a change in their relationship; he was much more open towards her and she enjoyed finding out more about him. He was an interesting yet complex character.

"You should get yourself home, Tommy. There's criminals out there," Grace smirked, changing the subject.

"Let me walk you home," Tommy said, standing from the bar stool. He turned towards the drunk men still nursing their drink. "Alright lads, time to go home and see your wives."

Tommy watched as the men drunkenly stumbled out into the night. He turned towards Grace who was collecting her belongings and locking the pub up for the night. He waited by the door as she came towards him. As they exited the pub, she locked the door behind them. They walked in silence into the night, their strides matching. It had been a routine almost that some nights of the week he would walk her home, especially if she had a late shift. He did not like the idea of her walking home alone in the dark. It wasn't until they came to a stop outside her door that he spoke again.

"You sure you never loved before, Grace?" Tommy asked, his brows furrowing. Grace took a moment before shaking her head. He nodded in response, thoughtfully. "I bid you a goodnight, Grace. Sleep well."

Grace smiled, and her cheeks blushed though it was lost in the darkness. She opened the door and turned to Tommy. "You too," she said, entering the house and closing the door after glancing at him one last time.

Tommy made his way home then, and he fell into bed. As he stared up at the ceiling, he thought of Martha once more. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him but he was able to smell her perfume drift by him as if she had just walked by his bed. His mind was his enemy when it came to her, it knew what made him vulnerable and it knew what he wanted most in this world that it would recreate images of her that played out in front of his eyes. He breathed heavily, his chests heaving with emotion, and he allowed his eyes to fall on her. She was stood by the window this time wearing nothing but her white night dress. He would often watch her when she didn't realise his attention was upon her; he loved to watch her read or stare off into the distance and see her lips curl up into a smile as she read something or remembered something.

He allowed his eyes to trace the curves of her body illuminated by the candle on his desk. She had her back to him, and she pulled the clip out of her auburn hair allowing it to tumble down and rest on the base of her back. She turned slightly and glanced at him, and all the hairs on his body stood on end. He eyes bore into him as the smile he had fallen in love with etched across her face. He closed his eyes for a moment knowing that when reopened them, she would be gone. She savoured the image of her that burned in his mind, and slowly opened his eyes again.

She was gone. The room was empty.

He knew it was his mind playing horrible tricks with him but part of him believed that she was back. The sadness crept over him and overwhelmed him like an old friend. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes once more. He allowed himself to relax, and as sleep took him away from reality for a few hours, he didn't know that the girl in his past would cross paths with him again soon.


	3. Monster Lead Me Home

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the response to this story! It means a lot to know that you guys are enjoying it! As always, I would love to know what you think so please review!

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 **Chapter Two**  
 **Monster Lead Me Home**

There were moments in Martha Hudson's life that were too painful to think about. For many years, she had kept this part of her life a secret for fear of it breaking apart everything she had worked hard to rebuild. But now, as the train rumbled towards Birmingham, she wished and hoped that time would come to a complete stop and she would be able to take a few moments to gather herself. It was not that she was dreading the return to her hometown. It was more about facing the truth and acknowledging that Tommy was truly gone. She had not been back since Tommy was taken from her, and the streets he once walked now only held his ghost.

Four years had passed and the pain within her heart was still unbearable. She had moved to London in hope that it would numb the pain she was living with, and it had slightly helped her. When they were young, they had both planned to escape Birmingham and move to London to make a life for themselves. When he died, she had taken it upon herself to experience everything they had planned to do, almost in honour of his life. She had met a good man – a doctor – and had accepted his proposal a few months ago after a year of courting. It had been difficult to open herself up to another man, and it had taken her some time to truly do so. Except there was one thing she couldn't give him for she was not able to, and that was her body.

Her life plan was to never return to Birmingham but Michael had been offered a position at the City Hospital of Birmingham which meant that a relocation to the place she had quickly departed from was inevitable. To be the bride and future wife of a doctor, it was about keeping up appearances, and so she had no choice but to return. Michael had no idea about her past, nor the reason why she had moved to London. He didn't know that she had loved and had lost.

As the train pulled into the station, she believed that Birmingham would forever stay in her past. But now, it was her future. How life worked, she did not understand.

Uncertainty began to swim in her stomach and a cold shiver ran down her spine. She closed her eyes as her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Michael seemed to noticed and rested his hand over hers in an attempt to calm her. She took deep breaths, knowing that her reaction would be met with questions once they got to their new house. The train stopped, and Michael helped her up from her seat. Her knees felt weak, and he assumed she was travel sick. He grabbed their belongings and with a helping hand, he helped her off the train. The cold air hit her hard and she tried to fight against the shaking of her body. She glanced around as a sea of people exited the train, filling up the platform. She took a moment to observe the people around her as Michael figured out where they needed to go. She saw families running to each other and being reunited; she saw couples hugging each other tightly; businessmen navigating their way through the hordes of people and out into the city. Michael pulled gently at her hand as he led her through the sea of bodies, and towards the streets outside the station. They were out in the open air before Martha realised, and she took a few deep breaths. He pulled her towards the vehicle waiting for them, and he helped her into the seat as he placed their suitcases on the back seat. He hopped into the driver's seat, and offered Martha a reassuring smile.

As they weaved through the streets of Birmingham and to their new home, Martha was quiet. Michael noticed the difference in his fiancée.

"Are you well, my dear?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"I am well," Martha replied, trying to convince herself. "I'm tired, that's all."

This seemed to be enough for Michael as he nodded, and focused his attention on the road. The house came into view and Martha was taken aback by the beauty of it as it stood proudly in the distance. It was a far cry from the house she grew up in, but this would be her home. It was exciting to have a home to call her own, with a man she could love. It was never her intention to find someone after Tommy. Michael had pursued her since they met and he was fun to be around. He made her laugh, he cared about her, and he loved her. And this would be their home together.

As they pulled up outside the house, she let herself out of the car before Michael could get to her side. Michael watched her look around at the house and the grounds that surrounded it. It was spectacular, and an early wedding present from him to his future wife. It filled him with pride to know he could look after her, and while she had been adamant that she wouldn't return to Birmingham, for whatever reason, he was proud of her for supporting him in his new job position.

"Shall we take a walk around the grounds?" he asked excitedly.

"Later? I am quite tired," she said quietly.

"Of course," Michael replied, closing the gap between them. He didn't notice her body become frozen as he wrapped his arms around her body and brush his lips against her own. "I wanted to ask you… about earlier. On the train. You were unwell?"

"Travelling scares me," Martha replied. "That's all. I apologise for acting that way."

"Do not apologise, Mo. I understand," Michael smiled. "Go to bed. I'll wake in a couple of hours."

Martha nodded, a small smile on her face. She entered the house and looked around in complete awe. The house was not only grand on the outside as she looked at all the intricate details that the house had to offer. It was beautiful. A marble staircase led the way towards the bedrooms and studies, and she found herself climbing the stairs slowly. Michael had told her that he had found them a house but other than that it had been a secret to her. She took a peek into every room upstairs, and smiled as she stepped into the master bedroom. Flowers welcomed her and filled her senses with a beautiful scent. She picked up the card addressed to her and read Michael's handwriting.

'To my beloved,

Welcome home, darling.

With love,  
Michael.'

She smiled and closed the card. The bedroom looked out onto the gardens, and she watched as Michael spoke to a grey haired man with a cane near the fountain. She furrowed her brow and tipped her head to the side as she wondered who he was. Michael had informed her that it would just be the two of them for a couple of days as the agency found them staff to care for the house. Martha had been adamant that she didn't want anyone to be working for them, but Michael was sure of it.

"We need help, Martha," he had said. "That's my final answer."

She had become quiet after that, knowing that when his voice was stern that it was best to not argue with him. It felt odd that he would want people to care for the house and to care for them. He had been brought up in a household where his family had help whereas she came from a household where you had absolutely nothing to your name except the clothes on your back.

She moved away from the window, and slid onto the bed. She laid there for a moment staring at the ceiling. It was not long before sleep came to her.

It was a few hours later when she awoke to Michael calling her name. She opened her eyes and saw that it was still daylight outside. She wondered how long she had slept for. The room was empty and she wondered if she had imagined her name being called, but when Michael burst through the door, she knew that it was real.

"We have been invited to a party, my dear," Michael said excitedly, ignoring the fact that she was startled at the sudden wake up call. "It does sound rather exciting!"

Martha nodded. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow night," he said, reading from the letter. "You are cordially invited to a party hosted by myself, Mister Kimber."

"That's exciting," Martha said. "I didn't know you knew anyone here."

"I've met with Mister Kimber a number of times," Michael said exasperatedly as if he had just told her and she had forgotten. "He would always hold parties in London."

"Ahh…" she said, absentmindedly. She glanced at the flowers again. "Thank you for the beautiful flowers. It was a lovely surprise."

"Anything for my love," Michael said, his tone softer now. He sat on the bed and rested a hand upon her covered thigh. He moved forwards and kissed her. She kissed him back. "I had a friend of mine come by and place them in here. I was worried you were going to fall asleep in another bedroom. Thankfully, here you are."

"I appreciate it," Martha smiled, tiredly.

"Girls and their flowers. Girls and their diamonds," he said, holding her left hand in his and staring at the ring that adorned her ring finger. "Three months and seven days until you're mine. Mrs Michael Thompson."

"It's not long to wait now," she whispered softly.

He twisted the ring around her finger, and she allowed him to. The ring on her finger was something she never truly brought any attention. It made her hand look different that it scared her to think about what it meant. Was she ready to be someone's wife? Was she ready for this?

"Will any of your family be attending the wedding?"

Martha shook her head. "No."

The subject of her family only came up once in the whole time they were courting. She had told him about the death of her parents when she was just seven, and the people who had brought her up were like family to her except they hadn't spoken for some time now. Michael seemed to understand and she respected that he didn't seem to pry. He never asked questions about them, but she knew that he would be there to listen to her when she was ready to talk about them.

She watched as Michael seemed to be in awe of the sentimental value of the ring and what it truly represented. Man and wife. A future of endless possibilities and a life full of love. It had been something she had wanted so much but it was never supposed to be with anyone. Her future had been planned, and the war had taken the most important person in her life away from her. As she stared at the ring, she could not help but feel as though she was suffocating.


	4. Familiar Faces

**Chapter Three  
Familiar Faces**

 ****The party was a grand affair and no expense was spared, it seemed. Tommy glanced around at the room full of people where successful businessmen with wives too posh to even glance in his direction were stood on the outskirts of the room. There were men who he recognised who had brought women from the whore houses to keep them company for the evening. He smirked as he recognised a few of the women, but the women pretended to not recognise him and thus avoided his gaze as it swept over them. And then there were men like him who were only there for the free alcohol. Kimber and Tommy never had the best relationship, but it was to keep up appearances. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, that kind of thing.

A whistle captured Tommy's attention and he glanced over at his brother Arthur who was owner of the whistle. He tipped his head to the side, and Tommy allowed his gaze to move towards who Arthur was motioning towards. Billy Kimber entered the room looking as smug as ever with his wife hanging off his arm, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but there with him. As Billy glanced around at the faces staring back at him, his gaze fell on Tommy who smirked and lifted his whiskey glass towards him in a mocking manner. This seemed to anger Kimber and he failed to hide his reaction causing Tommy to become even more amused. Kimber moved towards a group of people in conversation.

Arthur caught Tommy's attention. He said, "How long do we have to be here for? I've seen drunks more entertaining than this shit hole."

His comment caused the people around him to tut in disgust at his language. Tommy found it amusing that their mere existence at a party was causing people to be so outraged.

"We'll stay for a little longer, brother," Tommy replied, his eyes moving across the mass of people that seemed to fill the room quickly. "Nothin' makes you more uncomfortable than people who do not want us here. But that is somethin' I enjoy most."

Arthur smirked, and excused himself to get himself and his brother another drink. Tommy took the opportunity to keep an eye on Kimber as he moved from group to group. Tommy would describe him as an eel; a slippery little shit, who, if you didn't have a constant gaze on him, would slip away and disappear right under his nose. He hated him for that, but not only that, he also had a face that Tommy would love to punch.

They had only been there for less than twenty minutes but already he was bored. He felt so out of place at events like this that when he was invited to them – which was a rare occasion – he made sure he showed his face before leaving quickly. Give him The Garrison Pub where fights broke out nearly every night over this place anytime, at least he was respected there unlike this place. The people who attended these kind of events were the high and mighty of Birmingham. It was just a place where they paraded their wealth around to rub it in people's faces. It was not a place Tommy ever wanted to associate with but he had business to keep up with and he had to keep a watchful eye over Kimber.

Arthur returned at that moment with fresh drinks, and Tommy finished his old drink and placed it upon the bookshelf behind him.

"This drink, Arthur, then we leave," Tommy ordered, to which his brother nodded.

"Do yer ever think he gets sick of listening to himself talk?" Arthur asked, as he directed to conversation towards Kimber. "I bet he doesn't. I bet he gets off on it knowing he can bore people to death just by hearing his voice."

Tommy smirked and let out a laugh. "I do feel sorry for his missus, though."

"I bet she has to stop herself from trying to kill him every time he comes near her," Arthur commented. "Especially knowing that his eyes are on every other woman except her."

"She must be used to it," Tommy wondered. "He's pretty exhausting to be around. It probably gives her some space away from him to actually be able to talk about anything other than that hair of his."

"I wonder if his mum still cuts it for him," Arthur joked. "Hey… at least we have free whiskey to get us through this. I'm surprised no one has thrown themselves out of the window yet."

"There's still time," Tommy commented. "I'm guessing at least a few of these people have thought about it by now."

"Wanna make a bet there, Tommy?" Arthur chuckled.

"Alright. I'm guessing at least half of this crowd have thought about either choking him to death or jumping to their death just to get away from him and his never-ending stories," Tommy said, analysing the crowd. "Five quid."

Arthur chuckled. "Do we go around the room asking them?"

Tommy smirked. "You can, brother."

"Nah, I'm too busy. I've got whiskey to drink," Arthur replied. "You win."

Tommy watched as Kimber moved deeper into the crowd and towards a couple. They had their backs turned to him, and Tommy watched as Kimber tapped the man on the shoulder. The man turned around first smiling at Kimber. The woman remained talking to another couple as the two men fell into an easy conversation.

And it was as if all time slowed as his eyes watched her from afar. She turned around as the blonde man called her name. His breath hitched in his throat. She was dressed in a white laced gown with her hair in an up-do but with a few pieces of curled hair down to frame her face. He wondered if it was his mind playing tricks on him again like it always did but he knew this time that it was real. She was there. He narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him: she was stood close to the tall blonde man wearing a tuxedo who was deep in conversation with Kimber. He could see Kimber move his head slightly, and he could only guess that he was taking prime opportunity to glance at the woman's bosom. She was obviously uncomfortable at that, and Tommy noticed a flush of red creep across her chest and up her neck. The man stood next to her didn't seem to notice the unwanted attention coming from the Kimber who was ogling Martha's body like it was a piece of meat. Tommy felt anger surge within him.

Arthur seemed to notice Tommy tense up and tapped him on the arm to remind him of where he was. "We want no trouble," Arthur reminded him. He nodded quickly, although he couldn't help but notice he had curled his hands into a fist.

"Is that her?" Tommy asked Arthur, uncertain. "Or is it my mind again?"

Arthur scanned the crowd until his eyes fell on a familiar figure. He bit his lip for a moment.

"Is that her?" Tommy asked again.

"Yes, Tommy," Arthur replied, wishing that he could deny her existence at the party. "It's her."

Tommy nodded slowly, his jaw clenching.

"What are you gonna do, Tommy?" Arthur said, his voice stern as if warning Tommy.

"Nothin'," Tommy whispered, his eyes never falling away from her.

He wasn't sure what he expected when he looked at her. He had hoped that she would look different, but with her standing just a distance away from him, she looked exactly the same as he remembered her to be. The only thing different was the dress that she wore. She never dared to dress that way. She was always modest with her attire, knowing that any attention in her direction was unwanted. She was a shy person, a naïve girl who had opened her life to him. He'd grown up with her and yet staring at her, it was as if he was looking at a stranger. He was able to read her movements: the way she rubbed her neck signified that she was uncomfortable and anxious; and the way she always glanced towards the door every couple of seconds meant she wanted to escape. He knew her, and yet in the same moment, he didn't. Time had passed between them.

Tommy looked away to compose himself, and that was when he felt it. The burning sensation upon his skin. He knew she had noticed him then. He took a moment before he returned his gaze to her. They stared at each other for a moment before she looked away, her face pale and mouth ajar. She returned her gaze almost immediately, as if disbelieving he was there. He narrowed his gaze at her, trying to figure out her reaction. She moved away from the two men and moved in his direction as if an unseen force was pulling her towards him. However, she was unable to get that far as Kimber grabbed her wrist tightly and yanked her back with such force that it caused her to fall on the marble floor. It was unseen to others but it was clear as day to him.

Anger surged through Tommy's veins once more as he saw Martha disappear, and he moved through the crowd of people, not caring that he was pushing people out of the way at that point. His eyes fell upon Martha on the ground, tears streaming down her blushed face. His eyes moved towards the blonde man standing next to her, obviously embarrassed that she had fallen. He sneered at him, aware of Martha never taking her eyes off him.

Kimber joked about her having too much to drink, not realising that Tommy was stood behind him. Tommy cracked his head towards Kimber after his comment about Martha, and before Kimber knew it, Tommy had him by the scruff of his neck. Kimber freaked out at that moment as he stared at the seething face of Tommy who stared down at him.

"You wanna say that again, Billy?" Tommy seethed, running his tongue along his teeth.

"S-she h-had too much c-c-champagne," Kimber stuttered.

"I saw what you did," Tommy said calmly.

The blonde man pulled Martha to her feet roughly, whispering something in her ear. Tommy glanced at her.

"Are you hurt?" asked Tommy. Martha went to answer his question but the man next to her stepped forward.

"She's fine," he said.

Tommy never took his eyes off Martha, and asked her the question again. "Are you hurt?"

"I said, she's fine," the man answered for her again, more sternly this time. But still Tommy's gaze never wavered from Martha and he knew that she was anything but fine. Her eyes were red and tear filled, her entire right side of her body was red from where it connected with the marble floor, and her lip was bleeding from where her teeth bit into her bottom lip.

"If you answer for her again, you'll be spitting out teeth," Tommy warned. "Are you hurt?"

Martha offered a faint nod of the head, and that was all Tommy needed. He let go of Kimber causing the man to fall into a heap on the floor. Tommy offered a hand in Martha's direction, and she glanced at it for a moment. When Tommy felt her hand slip in his, he felt his entire body jolt. The feeling of her hand in his once more caused him to become breathless. He led her out of the room where all eyes were on them until Arthur who trailed after them closed the door to the grand room behind them.

Tommy led her towards the bathroom and opened the door. He let go of her hand and allowed her to enter first. He motioned to Arthur. "Watch the door. Don't let anyone come in."

And with that, he closed the door behind him.


	5. Was A Time

**Chapter Four  
Was A Time**

"You're supposed to be dead," were the first words to come out of Martha's mouth as soon as the door to the bathroom closed. She was stood by the sink, watching him intently. She was holding onto the sink and Tommy guessed it was the only thing keeping her standing at that point. He took a moment to look at every inch of her, and he noticed that blood had trailed down her leg. He met her gaze once more and felt his heart break as he watched tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Her lip quivered as her breathing was shallow and irrational like she had just completed a long sprint.

He didn't question her at that moment but moved closer to her. She instinctively tried to take a step back but the sink blocked her from moving further away from him.

"Martha, you're going to hyperventilate," Tommy said calmly. "Take five long, deep breaths."

She did what he told her to do, and after a few moments, her breathing returned to normal.

"You're supposed to be dead," she repeated, almost defeated that she had to say it again. Tommy furrowed his brow as he tried to comprehend what she meant. Had she hit her head when she fell? Was she confused?

"What do you mean?" Tommy asked, confusion gnawing at him.

"I received a letter," Martha began. "It told me that you had died in battle."

The tears fell from her eyes then and he watched as they slid down her cheeks and completed their journey downwards.

"How… are you here?" she whispered.

Tommy ran his tongue along his lips as he swallowed the lump in his throat. The raw emotion on her face was too much for him.

"I don't know what your talking about," Tommy whispered. "I don't know nothin' about this letter. But I'm here. I ain't dead."

"This cannot be real… I'm dreaming, obviously," Martha whispered to herself, her hands covering her face as she rubbed roughly at her skin in frustration. "I received a letter from the British Army telling me that you had died. But you're here. You're standing in front of me. This can't be real."

Tommy allowed Martha to vent her frustration out, watching from afar as she tried to grasp onto the situation that the news she had received all those years ago had been false. It all made sense to him now, the look of horror on her face as she met his gaze. She had truly believed she had seen a ghost.

"I need you to answer me this…" Martha stepped forward, a little uneasy on her feet. She held onto the sink. "Did you ever know where I went?"

Tommy shook his head sadly. "No. If I'd known, Martha, the years wouldn't have passed us by like this."

"When I left… I wrote Polly a letter and slipped it under her front door. I told her that I couldn't stay there anymore, that the pain of losing you was too unbearable for me to remain there and try to make a life without you. I just couldn't do it. So I told her that I was going to London… just like we'd planned… and that I would send her another letter in the coming weeks to let her know my address," Martha said, not keeping anything hidden from him. "I sent her the letter and I heard nothing back."

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he needed to speak with Aunt Pol about the whole situation. He knew Martha wouldn't lie to him ever. She wasn't that good of a liar, and he knew all the signs that she gave off when she was telling lies.

"I thought you were dead…" Martha said sadly. "But you're here. You're really here."

Tommy nodded and closed the gap between them. He placed his hands on either side of her face, and stroked her cheeks with his calloused thumbs. She fluttered her eyes shut and breathed in deeply as her body began to shake uncontrollably. Tommy grazed his thumb against her bottom lip, gently tracing over the open cut on her lip feeling her wince at his touch. He had dreamt about touching her again many times but to truly touch her and to have her touch him again felt as if it was too good to be true. He felt her take a sharp intake of breath at his touch.

"I'm here, Martha…" Tommy whispered. "I wouldn't have left you. I promised you that before I left, and I'm a man who keeps his promises."

At that moment, Arthur burst through the door looking exasperated. "We have company. They're on their way, Tommy."

Tommy grazed his lips against her forehead before releasing her just as Kimber burst through the door followed by the blonde man. Tommy narrowed his eyes at the man as he went over to Martha and checked her over. He was aware of the hushed conversation between the both of them and he strained his ear to try and hear what was being said but he was unable to understand them. His eyes met Martha's once more, and they kept their gaze upon each other.

Kimber turned to Tommy with a smug, shit eating grin etched upon his face. "I hope you didn't have your wicked way with her in my bathroom, Tommy. Her fiancé isn't best pleased with any of this."

Tommy's expressionless face remained the same but inside his head, he was screaming. He clenched his jaw, holding back the urge to bash Kimber's head against the wall. He turned his attention to the man with Martha at that moment, and observed the way he was checking her over. He was inspecting her lip closely, tracing his fingers across her lip just as he had done but watching from a distance, everything seemed to fall into place. He met Martha's gaze once more before he turned his attention to his brother where he whispered to pull the car around.

It all made sense now. She was another man's lover. She hadn't been his for a long time, and it shouldn't have come as a big surprise to him but underneath it all, it pained him to see. The man obviously cared a lot about her, but there was nothing coming from Martha. She looked at Tommy with more emotion than she did the man she was to marry.

"I'm charging you for my suit, Mister Shelby," Kimber said, to which Tommy redirected his gaze towards him. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip before grazing his teeth on his lip. No one saw it coming, as Tommy's fist hit out in Kimber's direction and collided with the man's face causing him to crumple to the floor, knocked out.

Martha let out a scream at the unexpected movement from Tommy. She stared at him in disbelief that he had done such a thing, but it made her realise that part of Tommy was different. Time changed people, she understood that. But seeing Tommy react the way he did, she understood just how much he had changed.

Tommy moved towards Kimber's unconscious body, and leaned into his ear. "That was for what you did to Martha, ya sick bastard." And with that, he left the bathroom and made his way outside to where Arthur was waiting with the car.

Martha watched him leave, and she had to fight the urge to follow after him. She had noticed that he refused to look at her after seeing Kimber whisper something to him. She knew exactly what it was, and she wished she had told Tommy first. In all honesty, Michael had been far from her mind. She could only focus on the one person she believed to have been dead for years but in fact had been living in the one place she had run away from.

"You are bleeding all over your dress," Michael commented. Martha turned her attention from the door onto him. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I want to go home," Martha said, her voice hoarse. "I want to go home now."

Michael nodded, and reached for Martha's hand except she didn't acknowledge it. She walked in front of him, making her way out of the Kimber's house with Michael following closely behind her.

As she made her way outside, she hoped that Tommy would be waiting outside for her. Except when the cold night air enveloped her, she noticed that he was gone without a trace as if he had been a figment of her imagination.


	6. Repentance

**Chapter Five  
Repentance**

Thomas Shelby sat in the darkness of the living room, the only light coming from his lit cigarette. He was not sure how long he had been sitting at the table for but he guessed that it had been a couple of hours. He needed some space to think. The darkness had always been a comfort for him when things became all too much for him. But this time was different. He was waiting. He was waiting to hear her move from her bed above him, and to descend downstairs. He had spent a lot of time thinking about everything he needed to think about, including the questions he needed to ask her. He had returned from the party a few hours before and he had hoped to catch her before she went to bed, but he had been too late. He wondered whether waking her up would be the best option, but he decided against it. And so, here he was waiting for her to wake.

He had so many questions he needed to ask her, and she was the only one with the answers. Movement above him caused him to focus on the sounds of her above him. He wondered if she was turning over in bed like she had done since he'd gotten back from the party. But the sounds above him were different. He heard the floorboards creak above him and the screech of the bedroom door opening. He remained silent as the stairs creaked as she made her way down into the open plan room. She didn't seem to notice him sitting there.

"You know one thing I hate about the human race…" he began, his voice calm and collected. Aunt Pol jumped as his voice filled the darkness around her. She turned towards his voice just as he lit another cigarette with a match. He inhaled the smoke deeply as he held up the match to watch the fire burn the small block of wood. As the flame touched his fingertips, he waved his hand forcefully to extinguish the flame. "…is that we all lie."

Polly furrowed her brow slightly, wondering what Tommy was talking about.

"We lie, we cheat, and we steal…" Tommy continued, puffing on his cigarette. "It's normal for a human being to do those things. But most people are good at just one of those. See, you're good at one of them."

"Tommy, you're not making sense. Have you been drinking?"

"I met a face from my past this evening," Tommy said, running his tongue along his bottom lip. "Yer may know her. She looked as if she had seen a ghost when she saw me, Pol, which wasn't the best feeling in the world. But there was a good reason why, wasn't there, Aunt Pol?"

This seemed to unsettle her, and Tommy bit his lip. He stubbed the cigarette out.

"It was clever of you. To send her letter telling her that I was dead," Tommy spat, bitterly. He clapped his hands. "That must be the sickest thing you've ever done to date. You must be so proud of yourself for destroying not only her life, and making her believe that I was dead and never returning to her, but also you destroyed my life. One little white lie, and two lives were over. Congratulations."

"It wasn't supposed to end up the way it did," Polly whispered.

"Unbelievable," Tommy muttered. "Ya made me believe she didn't love me. That I was unworthy of her love. Why? Why did send that letter to her?"

"She was so in love with you. It broke my heart to watch her wait to hear from you," Polly tried to explain.

"So you sent her a letter telling her that I had died fighting? Why that, aye?" Tommy said angrily. He slammed his fist down upon the table, startling Polly with the sudden outburst. "It's ridiculous. Ya ruined her life."

"I did it to protect her. To have her mourn you, I wanted her to be surprised for when you came back. Except it didn't go to plan, and I cannot apologise enough to you for that," Polly explained. "I didn't think she would leave."

Tommy stood from his seat and shook his head in disbelief. "She sent you an address a few months later, you get that letter?"

Polly was silent for a moment. Tommy couldn't believe it. He flipped the table over in anger and frustration. He didn't care if he woke the entire street at that moment. The table crashed into the wall and the both of them watched it for a moment, both breathing heavily.

"You knew where she was all along and yer couldn't tell me?!"

"I knew that if I told you, all of this would come out. I didn't mean to hurt either of you in the first place."

Tommy squeezed his fists together. "You made me believe she left for no reason. Because she didn't love me nor cared about me. When in reality, you were trying to keep your secret hidden."

"I'm so sorry, Tommy."

Tommy shook his head. "I don't believe you. I saw her look at me as if I was a ghost. And all that was because of you."

"Tommy, please…"

"Shut it!" Tommy exclaimed. "You're supposed to be blood, Pol. I'd expect this from Kimber… but you?"

"Do not put my name with his. Don't you dare do that!" Polly was angered. "I am nothing like him. You know that, Tommy."

"Do I?" Tommy asked. "All this time you kept it secret from me. What else are yer hidin', eh?"

Polly sank to the ground, sadness overwhelming her. Tommy watched her for a moment. He knew his anger would dissipate after some time, and so he bent down next to her.

"I want to understand why you did it," Tommy whispered, his voice calm and steady despite the anger pumping throughout his body. "But right now… I don't. There ain't anything else that you're hiding from me, is there, Pol?"

Polly shook her head, the pain of the truth being exposed clawing at her. "No… no. There ain't nothing else."

Tommy nodded and stood. He walked towards the window and stared out at the empty street outside. After a moment, he spoke.

"She's engaged," Tommy's voice shook at the sentence. Polly was able to pick it up but she said nothing. He pulled out another cigarette and placed it in between his lips. It remained unlit.

"Does he care for her well?" Polly asked, her voice trembling.

"Financially, yes," Tommy replied.

"That's not what I meant," Polly said, slowly getting up from the floor.

"I guess he does," Tommy's voice was low.

"But not as good as you would," Polly whispered. Tommy shook his head sadly.

Polly moved towards him slowly, unsure of how he would react with the closeness between them. She was his aunt, and she had betrayed him on such a level that she could not forgive herself for what she did to him.

"If it is meant to be, she'll return to you."

"Don't," Tommy said. "Do not pity me."

Polly returned to the kitchen, knowing that her mere presence was aggravating him. She made herself busy as she tried to hide the emotions that seemed to creeping upon her. She silenced the sobs that escaped her body, she wiped the tears quickly from her eyes, and she kept her back to Tommy. But Tommy knew. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and placed it behind his ear before walking towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder where she froze, and with ease, he pulled her into his body. She wrapped her arms around his body tightly and cried.

The secret had been exposed, and even though it was painful to think that one secret, one lie, had changed two lives. There was not much he could do for she was engaged to another man who took care of her. No woman could love a Shelby man, his father had told him that. And he believed it, as the doubt set in. They had a good time together, and then the war happened. She was no longer his. He could no longer touch her like she was his own. He could not make her his again. Except part of Tommy still clung onto the hope that there was still something there between them. He had felt it when he touched her just a few hours earlier, and he still felt it now. Tommy was not a man to feel any type of emotion, especially not now, but he felt it. The burn of his skin that made contact with her body, and the unmistakeable sensation of butterflies battling for dominance in his stomach.

No woman could love a Shelby man, he reminded himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The last couple of chapters have been edited. I received a review that told me I was misusing the word 'yer' so I have edited the past couple of chapters.**


	7. Good To You

**Chapter Six  
Good to You**

The first signs of morning slowly made an appearance, and Martha stared out into the distance. The birds, high in the trees surrounding her, tweeted the morning song they sang every morning to notify the people listening that a new day was upon them. The sky was still dark but that did not bother Martha at all. In fact, the promise of a new day just a few moments away was something that she did not know she wanted more than anything.

The memories from the night before would come to her in waves, as her mind reminded her of the events that had unfolded. It had been a strange night. She hugged her body tighter as the cold began to bite at the bare skin that remained uncovered. Her body ached more than she had expected it too, but she was fine. She had to be; not just for herself but also for Michael. They had returned from the party in silence, and had wordlessly gotten into bed next to each other. Michael had wanted to ask her about what had happened with the man who had taken her away from him but it was not the best time to bring it all up once more. He was exhausted, and there was no doubt that she was too. He had fallen asleep soon after, but Martha remained awake next to him, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to welcome her.

Except sleep never came to her. And so she slipped out of bed without disturbing Michael, and found herself escaping the house that no longer felt like her own. She was sat on the bench wearing nothing but a night gown. She had been sat here for hours but it did not feel that long. She stared at the sky in the distance, noticing that it was lighter than the rest of the sky that hovered above her, and she watched as the blinding sun peeked upwards. The movement of the sun was slow and oddly comforting knowing that the night before was just a memory.

She thought of him in that moment. Thomas Shelby, the man she had loved and mourned so greatly, had been stood in front of her. He had touched her and it felt as though the years that had passed them by were minute. He looked older than what she remembered, but she could only guess that the heaviness of war had caused that. He was alive. His death had been a lie. He had promised he would come back to her, and he had. Except she was no longer his.

Her throat burned as the sadness overwhelmed her and she tried to stop the emotions that were swirling within her from making an appearance. She instead investigated the bruises beginning to stain her knees and thigh from her fall. She brushed the night gown up her thigh and took a deep breath. They were dark purple, and she could only guess that they would spread like wildfire. Her entire right side was stiff to move, something that she would feel for the next few days if not the next coming weeks. Bruises adorned the wrist that Kimber had grabbed and she pressed down on them, feeling how tender it was. But alas, she thought, bruises faded with time.

She wondered if the feeling in her heart would disappear with time. The uncertainty within her heart was a profound feeling to her; it changed every little detail of her life and her future. The rest of her life had been planned. She would marry Michael in a beautiful ceremony where all the guests would witness the next chapter of their lives, all of them believing that the love he had for her was reciprocated. They would live together as man and wife for the rest of the days in this house where no children would be born. Michael wanted children, whereas she could not think of herself as a mother to the children of a man she could not love. She would live the rest of her days portraying a woman who loved her inspirational husband. She had loved a man before, but there was no room in her heart for another.

And that would be how her life would be. Tommy being back would not change that, no matter how much she wished it would change things. She would marry a man she did not love as it was better than what would happen if she turned her back on Michael. She would be cast out and humiliated like the women who sold their body on the streets. It was unfair, but she would be looked down upon. It was clear as day that she was not happy. She would never be happy with another man for Tommy had been her everything. Had time changed that between them? Did he feel the same about her after all this time?

"What shall I do?" her question drifted up into the morning sky, and remained unanswered. She took a deep breath before standing to her feet. She walked slowly upstairs, and slipped into bed next to Michael before he realised she had left his side.

-

She awoke a few hours later to an empty bed. It was not surprising as she woke most mornings alone, with Michael waking early to deal with business. What the business was regarding, she did not know. She stayed as far away from that part of his life as possible. She knew he liked to gamble, that much was certain, but she did not know just how much.

She dressed slowly, the sleep allowing her body to rest. She was stiffer than she had been just a few hours ago, but she moved slow knowing that her body could no more. Their furniture had been placed in the rooms, and once dressed, she sat at her dressing table that was situated in the bay window. Her lip was swollen and the cut was still sore. Except it was not her small wound that shocked her, for it was her face. Dark circles stained underneath her eyes, her face was pale, and her eyes bore no spark.

She quickly made herself up, hoping that it would make herself feel better. As she placed the powder and brush down on the dressing table, she glanced at her reflection. She offered her reflection a reassuring smile before standing where she then made her way downstairs to where Michael's study was.

As she entered the large room, she was in complete awe at the wood furnishings scattered around the room. Books filled the shelves that aligned the walls, a desk sat in the middle of the room, and a piano stood proudly near the window. She watched Michael tapping furiously on his typewriter for a moment.

"It looks splendid in here," Martha commented, to which Michael glanced up. They had not spoken since the party. He saw back in his chair, his hands clasped together as he watched her looking around at the room. He remained silent.

Martha cast her gaze downwards at her shoes, before meeting his gaze. "I… apologise for last night," she whispered, hoping that her voice did not fail her. "I was in shock… I was in pain."

He did not accept her apology and Martha took note of that. She had humiliated him in front of his potential patients

"That man," Michael said after a moment. Martha's skin began to burn. "The man who took you from me. He did not hurt you, did he?"

Martha shook her head. "He did not."

"What did he want with you? Why did you go with him? Do you know him?" Michael asked the questions that had been swirling around his mind for hours.

"I do know him," Martha began. "He… he was a good friend of mine before I left this place. As I said, I only went with him because I was in shock. He just made sure I was okay."

This seemed to satisfy Michael for he made no further comment. "Very well. How are you feeling this morning?"

"I am better," Martha reassured him. She was not going to tell him that she felt horrible, and that she was in so much pain that the mere thought of moving made her nauseous.

"Good. You ruined your dress last night," Michael commented, returning to his typewriter.

Martha lowered her head and apologised. Michael nodded at her apology.

"Why don't you spend today away from this place? Invite Mary out for the day. She and her husband are on their way here. I'm sure she would enjoy your company for a few hours," Michael suggested, pulling out his wallet. He handed her a bundle of notes to which she took. "Treat yourself."

Martha did not question him as to why the Kimber's were on their way to their house, but slowly nodded her head, before Michael motioned for her to leave his study. She closed the door behind him just as a knock on the door echoed through the lobby of the house. She made her way over to answer it, getting there faster than the footman. She opened the door to reveal Billy Kimber and his wife Mary. A smirk played at her mouth as she saw the bruising on his jaw, remembering that Tommy was the reason for it. Kimber took in her own appearance, his beady eyes drinking in her body, and instantly Martha felt sick to her stomach. Never had she met a man who repulsed her more than Billy Kimber did.

"Are you going to invite us in or what?" Kimber asked, the entire façade from the night before meaning nothing. Martha willed herself to slam the door in his face, but she stepped to the side and allowed them both entry. They stepped inside the house, and Martha felt as Kimber brushed himself past her. Taking a deep breath, she noticed that Kimber and Mary had not travelled alone as a handful of men stood outside, walking around on the gravel and inspecting the house.

"You have a lovely house," Mary commented, nicely.

Martha smiled and thanked her.

"Not nearly as big as ours, mind, but it's a sufficient size," Kimber commented to which Martha rolled her eyes.

The door to Michael's study opened and Michael smiled wide as he welcomed the Kimber family. Michael and Billy spoke for a while as Mary and Martha stood awkwardly. Michael turned to his wife-to-be.

"Why don't you and Mary go out now, it's a lovely day," Michael commented, to which Martha nodded. "Take the car and enjoy yourselves."

He handed her the car keys before he disappeared into the study behind Billy. Martha turned to Mary and smiled.

"How about we let men be men and do something?" Martha asked, offering the quiet woman a small smile.

"That would be great," Mary replied, happy to be away from her husband for a while.

"We'll take the car ourselves," Martha said, opening the door to the store room and retrieving her coat from last night. Mary nodded and the two women exited the house and made their way into town. Except, neither of them expected to bump into a member of the Shelby family once they got there.


	8. Playing With Fire

**Chapter Seven  
Playing with Fire**

The car carried them into the city where it was a far cry from the rolling hills and countryside they had just left. The drive had been an easy one, and Mary was in complete awe of Martha who drove them. Billy would never even let her touch his car, let alone drive him anywhere. It was refreshing to see a woman do something that men took so much pleasure in doing, and for Mary, she wished that Billy, the man she loved with the entirety of her heart, would let her do more things. She could take care of herself, she was sure of that, but he always believed her to be a nuisance and someone who relied on him for many things. Part of that was true, but Mary searched for some piece of freedom under the strains of marriage.

Martha parked at the side of the road, and slid out of the car. Mary stepped out also, feeling slightly giddy at the prospect of being away from her husband for a couple of hours. They walked and talked for some time, enjoying the easiness of conversation between each other. The shops beckoned them, however, and they found themselves stood outside a dressmaker's where a beautiful white wedding dress stood proud in the window.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The voice behind them startled them and they slowly turned towards it. Martha felt her stomach begin to flip as she recognised the voice immediately. She closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them in his direction.

Tommy stood there smoking a cigarette. His eyes rested on Martha for a split second before returning back to the dress. Martha continued to stare at him wishing that he would return his gaze to her.

"Mister Shelby," Mary acknowledged him. "I do not agree with your actions towards my husband last night."

Tommy tipped his head towards her as he took a sharp intake of breath through his mouth. "He had it coming, Mrs Kimber. You can tell him that for me."

Mary shook her head, even though part of her was pleased that someone was not afraid of her husband.

"May I have a word with Martha?" Tommy asked, to which Mary nodded. "Alone, please."

She nodded once more, knowing that her presence was unwanted like it usually was.

"Wait," Tommy said, pulling a wad of notes from his pocket. He pulled a note from the wad and handed it to Mary. "Go get yourself a drink or something. There's a tea place down the way."

Mary hesitated but took the money. She gave one last glance towards Martha who simply smiled at her. She left the two of them standing in the street as she disappeared into the tea shop.

"I see Kimber's men don't know when they're unwanted," Tommy commented, mostly to himself.

"I feel sorry for Mary," Martha whispered. "Being married to him must be awful."

Tommy smirked at her comment. "Aye, I don't disagree with you. Let's go somewhere."

He led her down an alleyway, knowing that Kimber's men would not follow after them. They usually kept a watchful eye on Mary to notify Kimber of where she was at all times. They both remained silent for a while as Martha followed after Tommy. He turned her once they had reached their destination; a small yard in between the shops. Tommy glanced at her swollen lip, wanting nothing more but to touch her again.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, shaking his head at the poor question that escaped his mouth.

She furrowed her brow. "Sleep was… difficult."

"I spoke with Aunt Pol," he began. "She admitted to doing wrong."

Martha nodded slowly.

"I needed to see you," Tommy said, his voice low. "Just to know that it was real."

"I still cannot fathom it," Martha whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

"You talk posh now," Tommy commented, to which Martha winced at his words. "To think you were an orphan on these streets and now you're marryin' a doctor."

Martha's jaw clenched as she watched Tommy place a cigarette in between his lips and offered her one. She stared at the packed before she found herself pulling one out. Tommy lit a match, igniting his own cigarette before stepping forward to ignite the one in between Martha's lips. He had closed the gap between them significantly and Martha did not step away from him this time. Their eyes never left each other's as Martha took a drag on the cigarette. It had been years since she had last smoked a cigarette, and a small part of her missed that. It was not a habit of hers, just an occasional indulgence.

"Do you love him?" Tommy asked the question that burned him every time he thought of it. Martha's reaction was calm, as if she had been waiting for him to ask. He had made a small dig at her but it was something that she was to get used to. She came from nothing and to an outsider it now seemed as though she had the world at her feet.

Martha took another drag of her cigarette before she discarded it onto the ground and stood on it, grinding the sole of her shoe into the ground. "What if I said yes?"

Martha watched Tommy clench his jaw, his eyes never leaving her own. She noticed his eyes grow sad but he hid it well. "Ain't much I can do then."

"And what if I said no?" The question shocked Tommy and he thought for a moment.

Tommy took one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it away. "I would hope that you were marrying him because you loved him, Martha."

This saddened Martha more than it should. She wanted to tell Tommy how she felt sick every time he tried to touch her, how much she yearned for his touch and how much she wanted to be with him. She did not expect him to take a step closer and place his hand on her check. He stared into her eyes intently, his breathing shallow as she stared up at him.

"If you love him, you won't kiss me back," was all he said as he brushed his lips against hers. The sensation of his lips against hers was magical, and memories of the both of them together came flooding back to her. Tears stung her eyes as she found her lips moving against his.

She felt him smile into the kiss, and he felt relieved that no time had passed between them.

"Ahem."

A voice close to them filled the space around them and Martha moved away from Tommy swiftly. He remained where he was, running his tongue along his lips as he savoured her taste. Tommy turned his head towards his brother who had interrupted them.

"What is it?" Tommy asked abruptly.

"We 'ave some trouble at the dock," Arthur said to which Tommy sighed.

"I leave 'em for an hour," he said mostly to himself. He turned to his brother. "I'll be there soon."

Arthur nodded, and redirected his gaze to Martha. "It's great to see yer again, Mo."

Martha smiled at his nickname for her. "It's good to see you too, Artie."

Arthur laughed before leaving them alone.

"I think we're in trouble now," Tommy whispered. He took Martha's head in his hands and stared deeply into her blue eyes. "Don't do it. Don't go through with the weddin'."

"But how?" Martha whispered, sadness coating her voice. "I will be seen as nothing more than a whore, Tommy."

"Ain't that better than sleepin' next to a man that turns yer stomach every time he tries to touch yer?"

"Let me think of something," Martha said, knowing that Tommy was right. He was always right.

"I'll take you back," he said, holding out his hand for her. She took it instantly, and he led the way up the alleyway and back the way they came. Before they got back onto the street, he pulled her to him and placed a kiss against her forehead. "I'll find you again soon."

Martha nodded and grabbed at his hand, standing on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss upon his mouth. He smiled at her before he slipped into an alleyway connected to the one she was currently standing in. She pressed her fingers against her lip, still feeling Tommy's lips against her own.

"You're playing with fire," Martha whispered to herself, before she set off towards the tea room that Mary was in. As she sat down with Mary, she could not keep her mind from travelling back to Tommy. Mary spoke to her about her wedding with Billy and how it was a magnificent day for them both where their families became one. Mary asked her questions about her life, about Tommy, about how she met Michael. Martha answered them well, controlling herself from talking too much about Tommy and focusing most of her conversation about Michael and his work. Time away from their partners should have meant time to talk about other things but conversation always came back to Billy and Michael. It was not that the two women had nothing to talk about, it was just that it was expected of her to talk about her husband-to-be the way she was expected to.

They returned to the house shortly afterwards, and was surprised to find the house empty. Michael and Billy were nowhere to be seen. Mary excused herself, exclaiming that she was rather tired and that home beckoned her. Martha showed her out, and the men who had followed them around for the day drove her back home. Martha stood alone in the foyer and wondered what to do with herself.

The day had left her tired and she found herself climbing up the stairs to bed. As she slipped into bed, she dreamed of Tommy.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback to this! It makes my day brighter knowing that you're enjoying it as much as I am writing it! If you have any ideas that you would like to see happen in this then please let me know! Also, please let me know what you think as I love hearing what you think! I don't bite!

\- lilylittle


	9. Broken Ones

**Chapter Eight  
Broken Ones**

 ****She found herself walking in the darkness of night. Her feet carried her as steady as they could as her body grew increasingly tired and heavy. Her head was swirling and pounding, and every time she blinked, it felt like her eyes were going to roll out of her head. She knew she looked a mess, but there was not much she could do about it. Blood trailed down from the wound to her head and dripped down on the dirt road beneath her, tracking the journey she took. Droplets of blood seeped into her eyes obscuring her view.

There were times when her body grew heavier than it had done and all she wanted to do was stop and crumble to the ground but she continued walking, hoping that her feet didn't fail her in that moment. The night usually scared her but this time was different. She did not care if anything more happened to her, for she would rather be anywhere than the place she had come from.

She closed the gap between herself and her destination quicker than she had realised. She turned onto the street and quickened her steps. She knocked gently on the door, hoping to stir the sleeping inhabitants inside. She soon realised that her knocking was not loud enough and so she started banging against the wooden door louder and more frantically than before.

She heard someone bang about inside the house and curse in frustration. She slumped against the door, her body refusing to work in that moment. The door opened revealing a woman with curly hair placed messily upon her head and a colourful blanket covering her body. The woman's mouth was moving but she could not, for the life of her, hear what she was saying to her. And that was when the darkness welcomed her like an old friend.

-

"Ada!" Polly shouted desperately into the darkness of the house. She heard Ada move upstairs and making her way down the stairs to where she was stood.

Ada stood dumbfounded as she saw Martha's unconscious body lying on the floor.

"What the hell happened?" Ada asked, rushing towards the young woman's side. It had been a long time she had last seen her, having only been a young girl when Martha disappeared from her life. She had felt bitter towards the girl afterwards, especially when Tommy came back from war to find himself lonely.

"Ain't got no clue," Polly said, inspecting the woman's face. Blood stained her delicate ivory skin and the older woman wondered what the true extent of her injuries were. As she looked the woman over, she inspected that she had to have walked for some time going by the state of her shoeless feet. "I need you to go find Tommy. He should be at The Garrison."

Ada nodded and slipped into her coat. As the young girl rushed out into the night and raced towards the pub to urgently find her brother, Polly pulled Martha's body further into the house. She lifted her lifeless body onto the couch, before moving over towards the candles and illuminating the house with light. She returned to the girl's side, and took her hands in her own. The girl was frozen to the bone. She grabbed the matchbox and lit a match, throwing it into the fire.

In the distance, she heard the sound of the pub doors opening and the chatter of drunken men roll out on the street. She strained her ears and heard the thundering sound of feet against the hard stone ground before it silenced outside her home. She turned around.

Tommy advanced towards the girl lying on the couch, her eyes closed and her mouth agape. He took in her bloodied face, as well as the cuts that adorned her hands, arms and face. Bruising was beginning to form around her neck and he stroked her face with the back of his hand, before turning to Polly.

"What happened?" his voice was stern and demanding.

"There was frantic knocking on the door. Seems that took all her energy away," Aunt Pol answered. "I asked her what was wrong, what she was doing here, but she just stared at me. Looked right through me and then she collapsed."

He inspected her face, noticing that the majority of the blood staining her face came from the large cut to her head hidden in her hairline.

"Tommy…" Aunt Pol said. "Do you know why she's here? Why she's unconscious and knocking on our door in the middle of the night?"

Polly's question remained unanswered. John and Arthur shared a look with each other. Tommy stood, bending down and sliding his arms beneath her. He lifted her with ease and carried her carefully upstairs to his bedroom leaving the members of his family stood dumbfounded downstairs. He kicked the door open as gently as possible, and laid her gently on the bed. He pulled the matchbox from his pocket and lit the candle next to his bed.

As he stared down at the girl who had come to him in the middle of the night for safety, he could not keep the anger he felt at bay. He knew that whatever problem she had was quickly becoming his own.

The sun beamed onto her face. It was oddly warm and comforting. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open slowly and she moved slowly into an upright position. Her body was heavy and sore, and she winced in agony. She took a moment to observe her surroundings and her stomach dropped. She was in Tommy's bedroom. It had not changed all that much despite the years that had passed.

The door opened slowly, as if sensing her consciousness. Tommy stepped inside carrying a cup of tea.

"What am I doing here?" Martha asked, her voice hoarse.

"You tell me, Martha," Tommy said, setting the cup down on the bedside table next to her.

"I need to get back home," Martha said, pulling the blankets from her body. It was then that she noticed the cuts that adorned her legs. The bruises from the other night were still visible, and she could sense Tommy's gaze upon them. She glanced at him, and observed that his eyebrows were knitted together as his eyes analysed the extent of her injuries.

"He hurt you, didn't he," it was more of a statement than a question. Tommy moved closer and inspected the cuts on her legs. He allowed his eyes to observe every inch of skin that was on offer to him; more cuts scarred her arms and hands, bruises had formed around her wrists and upper arms, and as he tipped her head backwards, he inspected the bruises staining her neck in the same of hands. "You have a cut to your head. I cleaned as much of the blood from your face as I could."

Martha closed her eyes. She allowed herself to feel the injuries to her body as the memories came flooding back to her like a harsh slap.

"What happened, Martha?"

"I returned home with Mary. She left soon after," Martha began. "I went to bed, and I woke up to him strangling me in my sleep. He was squeezing the life out of me and I fought back as best as I could. He was drunk, I could smell it on his breath. He likes to drink but not to that extent. I'd never seen him like that."

"He ever lay a finger on you before?" Tommy asked, to which Martha gave a sharp shake of the head.

"Never," Martha said sadly. She touched her head gently, winching. "He pulled me from the bed by my hair. And he started punching and hitting me all over my body. He dragged me down the stairs by my hair, and he was yelling at me. He threw things at me. Books at first, then photographs of me and him, then ornaments."

Tommy remained silent as he listened to her remember the events from the night before.

"I was pleading with him to stop, to tell me why he was so mad, and he lost it then. He had an ornament in his hand and he…" she faintly touched the wound on her head. Her sentence trailed off as her emotions become too powerful for her. Sobs plagued her body.

Tommy clenched his hands together tightly until his knuckles turned white. He bowed his head as Martha continued her story.

"He was so drunk. I don't think he even knew what he did. I knew I needed to get out of there as soon as I could get off the floor. He left to go to bed, told me to clean the mess up," Martha said. "But I ran. And now I'm here, I guess."

"Did he give you a reason as to why he beat you?"

Martha shook her head, her body succumbing to shock once more. "He's never been like before."

"But he can be like that again with you," Tommy whispered. "You gonna take that chance, Martha? If he hurt you like this now, what else can he do to you, aye?"

"I know, I know…" she repeated. "Do you think he knows about what happened between you and me?"

Tommy shrugged. "We'll find out with time."

She nodded, shaking with fear.

"In the meantime, you stay here," Tommy said, to which Martha nodded. He knew she was safer here with him. He always kept her safe no matter what, and the years had not changed that. Part of him was surprised that she had agreed with him but he only imagined that she was scared to think about the possibilities of her returning back home. Michael had beat her senseless, and it worried him that Michael could hurt her more than he already had. What would happen to her if he let her return home, would he ever see her again? He knew men like Michael, he had seen the injuries on their wives as they desperately tried to hide the pain in their eyes and mask the bruises that stained their skin.

He had to make a plan, but he wished that it wasn't too late.


	10. Whispers On My Pillow

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all the wonderful support with this story! It means so much to know that you are enjoying it, and it makes me want to write more and share it with you all! Apologies for the lack of update yesterday, so hopefully there'll be two chapters posted today! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

\- lilylittle

* * *

 **Chapter Nine  
Whispers On My Pillow**

Tiredness had overwhelmed Martha soon after and sleep welcomed her. Tommy had taken refuge upon the wooden chair situated next to the open fire that radiated warmth throughout the small bedroom, and as the night deepened, it offered solace against the chilly night outside. He spent some time staring at her sleeping form wondering what would happen if she returned home. He knew he had to do something but he knew it was out of his control. Martha had promised him that she would sort it out, and he had to respect her judgement and actions. But that did not seem to stop the urge to hunt him down and give him a piece of his own medicine.

Sleep soon welcomed him also, and he had dozed off to an uncomfortable sleep sometime afterwards. Martha woke up and fluttered her eyes open. The room was still engulfed in light, as the candles on the fireplace and bedside table allowed shadows to dance across the walls and ceiling. Martha watched them for a moment, a small smile upon her face. She could not for the life of her remember falling asleep, as the last few moments she could remember were talking to Tommy. She sat up in bed, her hand immediately moving to her head as it began to thud. The tea that Tommy had brought up hours before remained untouched.

She tenderly touched the wound that sliced the skin on her head, and brought her hand back. Panic rose within her as blood stained her hand. She moved from the bed, careful to not wake Tommy. Her feet touched the bare wooden floorboards beneath her, but that seemed to be enough to wake the sleeping man.

"Get back into bed," his voice was husky and full of sleep. Martha's eyes flicked to Tommy as he opened his eyes. He rubbed his face tiredly.

"I'm bleeding," Martha whispered. Tommy turned to her then and moved from his seat.

"On your head?" Tommy asked.

"Yes," she whispered, pointing to her head.

He exited the bedroom at that moment and Martha waited in silence for him to return. He returned with a small wet rag.

"Here," he said, closing the door and making his way towards her. "Let's have a look."

Martha moved gently down the bed, giving Tommy enough room to sit down next to her. He inspected the wound gently. She had caught it in her sleep. Tommy began to clean the wound, wiping away the blood that was around it.

"It looks okay," Tommy said. "Doesn't look like there's any infection in it. We'll keep an eye on it, and if not, I'll get a doctor in to see you."

Martha scoffed. "Just make sure the doctor isn't Michael."

Tommy could hear the sadness in her voice as she joked.

"Tell me about London," he said, changing the subject.

"It was good," Martha replied. "It's so different to Birmingham."

"But nothing like home?"

Martha shook her head. "Birmingham will always be home to me. No matter how many bad things happen here."

"Where did you go?" Tommy asked, his voice low. "What did you do?"

"I lived in Camden. I lived with this young couple," Martha said. "We would go dancing."

"That sounds nice," he said, to which she nodded sadly.

"They were expecting," she continued. "They couldn't afford their rent and we got talking one day, and they offered me the room. It was nothing fancy, it was in the basement of their house but it was nice. I had access to the garden whenever I wanted. We'd all have dinner together in the evenings."

Tommy smiled as she told him about her life away from this place. It was a strange feeling; the Martha he had known before the war was a far cry from the Martha she was telling him about. She had had to grow up and find her own way in the world. It had taken her to London – a place they had planned to go – and she had found her feet quickly, making friends and taking time out for herself.

"It was nice. They quickly became my friends," Martha smiled. "He went to war soon after I got there. Conscription. So it was just me and her, and this little baby who came into the world unknowing of what was truly happening in the world. I worked as a seamstress for a while."

"Did you enjoy it?" Tommy asked, to which Martha shrugged.

"Yes," Martha replied, a smile spreading across her face. "I loved it."

"And then you met Michael?"

Martha nodded. "One of my clients was getting married. I helped sew her wedding dress. She invited me to her wedding. I was out of my depth. It wasn't what I was used to. It was a magnificent affair and then he just started talking to me. As if I was on the same level as he was. He didn't question anything; he was genuinely interested in what I said. He asked me out many times and I said no. Then one day, I said yes."

"I'm sorry," said Tommy.

"What for?"

"For making you leave," Tommy whispered huskily. "For pushing you away from Birmingham."

"It wasn't your fault, Tommy," Martha said, reassuringly. She laid her hand over his. "I didn't want to be here anymore. I thought you were dead."

Tommy nodded, understanding her need to escape home.

"Nothing made sense afterwards," Martha said, opening up to him. "How could life go on when you were no longer there?"

"Did you question it?"

"All the time. My head believed it but my heart still clung onto the hope that you were still out there somewhere. But as time went on, I knew that clinging onto that hope wasn't good for me. If only I'd stayed, aye?"

Tommy shook his head. "You did what you needed to do. There ain't no fault in that."

"The war…" Martha whispered.

Tommy nodded slowly. "Awful. Just awful."

"The family that I lived with for a while. He was injured. He was shot in the head," Martha said sadly. "It didn't kill him but he was never the same again."

Tommy closed his eyes, painful memories rushing back to him. "We were supposed to be there for two weeks. Be home by Christmas. Then four years went by… and we came home. Killing a man is bad enough… but to kill thousands of men just to make sure you returned home to your loved ones was the one thing I never understood."

"But you had to do it," Martha whispered.

"I had to get home to you."

Tears strung Martha's eyes and she blinked them back. Tommy squeezed her hand gently. He pulled her into his body and rested his head on hers, careful of her wound.

"Do you still want me?" Martha's voice was low but full of emotion.

"More than anything," Tommy whispered. "You know that."

"I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him that I was never his," Martha said, turning her head up to Tommy. He nodded.

As the night deepened, they found themselves lying in bed together. Martha laid on her side, arm draped across Tommy's waist as Tommy's hand rested on the small of her back. Her head rested on his chest, and the beat of his heart filled her ears. They spoke about the war, and Martha listened as Tommy went into detail about his experience in France. They found themselves telling each other things that they had never told anyone else. As sleep soon found them, they drifted off into a dream land. The nightmares that plagued Tommy's dreams remained at bay, unwanted and wasted.

As Tommy woke the next morning with the sun on his face, he realised that the place where Martha had slept had grown cold.


	11. In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:** I just want to say a huge thank you for the response to this story. I am completely overwhelmed that so many of you are enjoying reading this. It means so much! This chapter was difficult for me to write just because I was unsure of how much I wanted to add into it. So hopefully, you like it! Let me know what you think and if there's anything you would like to see happen in this story then please get in touch with me!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten  
In Plain Sight**

The Garrison Pub was surprisingly quiet.

Tommy's entire day had gone without a hitch and in a blur. He was not sure if it was because his mind was swirling with the memories of the night before, of being in bed with Martha and talking as if no time had passed them, or if it was because just like his visions of her since he returned from war she had disappeared into thin air and without a trace. He was in own worst enemy and he knew that dwelling on it too much would be his own downfall.

And so he sat in the silence of the side room, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Silence offered him comfort and that was what he needed in that moment. He closed his eyes and took a moment to enjoy the whiskey he was consuming, unaware of the door opening.

Grace stood and watched him. Her eyes moved across his face, taking in every little detail. His full lips were parted slightly as smoke seeped out of his mouth. His long eyelashes fanning out underneath his eyes. Her stomach dropped as his eyes opened and his blue eyes absorbed hers. There'd not been many men who made her heart race just by one glance, but Tommy was an exception. There was something about him that intrigued her; his eyes had seen so much and yet he never uttered a word.

She took a breath, calming herself.

"I have something to ask you, Tommy," Grace said, finding her voice.

"Aye, what is it?" Tommy asked, leaning over and stubbing out his cigarette.

"I know you don't get this question a lot but I was wondering if you enjoyed dancing?" asked Grace. Her hands were clammy and her body shook as her voice filled the air.

"Only when I've had a few more of these in me," Tommy asked, lifting up his glass with a humoured look on his face.

"Well, that can be arranged," Grace smiled. "There's a party that I've been invited to and I don't know many people here so… would you like to go with me? It's this Friday…"

Tommy mulled it over in his mind. To go dancing with a pretty girl would be a fun thing to do on a Friday evening, and he did not seem to have anything planned.

"Why not, aye?" Tommy smirked. He watched Grace suppress a wide smile but he noticed she could not stop the pink blush from forming on her cheeks.

The door behind Grace opened and Arthur appeared. He took note of Tommy's smirk as he entered the room. Grace moved out of the way, so that both brothers were in her view. Arthur was holding a letter in his hand.

"A letter came for you, Tommy," Arthur said, passing it to his brother. "Looks posh."

"Thanks," Tommy muttered. He stared at the letter in his hand, eyeing it carefully. A golden trim lined the edge of the thick, textured envelope. Arthur was right, it did look posh. He tore it open, aware of the small audience watching him do so. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he pulled the thick card out. He flipped it over and narrowed his gaze as he read the fancy writing printed on it.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"I've been invited to a dinner party," Tommy read. "You and a guest are cordially invited to spend the evening with Michael Shaw and his fiancée Martha Hudson at their home. Food and drink are expected to be consumed."

"How pompous is that," Arthur commented to which Tommy smirked.

"Aye, it is," Tommy acknowledged. He threw the card down on the table and picked up his glass where he downed the remaining liquid. "Have you got a posh dress, Grace?"

"I think I do," Grace nodded.

"Good," Tommy said, standing from his seat. "It seems we have plans tonight."

Tommy ordered for Grace to return to her house and get dressed in her finest attire ready for him to collect her within the hour. She raced home quickly, dressing in her favourite red dress before waiting for Tommy on the doorstep. She did not have to wait long for Tommy pulled to a stop in front of her with a smirk on his face as he observed what she was wearing. It was definitely the type of dress that would cause heads to turn and even he was taken aback by the change in attire that she had. She got into the car gracefully.

"Ever the gentleman, Tommy," Grace commented, scoffing as he did not help her into her seat.

"Aye, you seem like the type of girl who doesn't like it when men fawn over you," Tommy smirked. Grace giggled as he pulled off and drove in the direction of the house.

The twosome remained silent as the car rumbled towards their destination. It was a strange feeling for Tommy to be travelling with a pretty girl to a dinner party hosted by the girl who had his heart. He wondered how Martha would react when she saw him with Grace; would she be jealous? Did he want to make her jealous? Part of him did. And he hated himself for admitting that to himself. She had left him alone in bed in the early hours of the morning, making him question his own sanity once more. As the house came into view, he noticed a gasp escape from Grace.

The house stood proudly in the distance. The white stone building was vast and elegant, with large windows adorning the walls. Flowers spread across the front of the house, allowing the flash of colour to welcome arriving guests. The surrounding land was impressive, with a large pond in the distance, and a flower garden just a stone's throw away from the house.

"Have you ever seen something so beautiful, Tommy?" Grace asked, in awe.

Her question remained unanswered. The car came to a stop, and Tommy stepped out. Grace noticed his lack of response and stepped out also, keeping an eye on him. Tommy stared at the house and felt his stomach drop as realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. He would never be able to give Martha the life she currently had. She lived in a great house, she had the lifestyle that many wanted, and for the most part she had it good. Michael had laid his hands on her and there was nothing to keep her there with him. Giving it all up would mean she would have nothing again. He had seen her with nothing but the clothes on her back and it had broken his heart to see her so vulnerable. He had made her a promise that she would never have to worry about life or money, but was a promise worth more than the life she was currently leading? Was he worth it in her eyes?

As doubt began to plague him, the door opened. Michael stepped out of the house.

"Welcome!" Michael exclaimed happily. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Tommy."

"Likewise," Tommy replied, his voice low.

"You must be…" Michael said, searching for a name.

"Grace," Grace said, introducing herself. She extended a hand out to Michael who shook it rather forcefully.

"Come in!" Michael said, beckoning the twosome into the house. He led them into the study where he fixed them both with a drink.

Tommy took a moment to capture the house in all its glory. No expense had been spared, he guessed. As Grace and Michael spoke, he moved into the corridor that led to the kitchen. He downed his glass of whiskey, and ran his tongue across his bottom lip. He leaned against the cabinets staring out at the magnificent garden.

At that moment, the door that led to the garden opened, and he watched as Martha stepped inside. Her hair was down and framed her face and a coat was wrapped around her frame. She closed the door behind her quietly.

He watched as he eyes flicked up to him and her brows furrowed.

"Tommy?" Martha asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the dinner party," Tommy replied.

"Dinner party?" Martha questioned, confusion spreading across her face.

"Ahh!" Michael exclaimed, entering the kitchen. "There you are!"

Michael wrapped his arms around Martha and enveloped her in a tight hug. He released her but not before placing a long kiss on her lips, aware of Tommy watching the scene from the other side of the kitchen. Jealousy rose within him and he tapped his fingers against the cabinets as a way of keeping calm. It did not help but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Michael," Martha said, stepping backwards. "You didn't tell me about a dinner party."

"It must've escaped me," Michael said, tapping his head playfully. "How about you go upstairs and make yourself presentable for our guests?"

Martha stared at him for a moment, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything she had planned to tell him. She had taken a walk to try and find the words and just when she had, he had surprised her with a dinner party. She watched as Michael left the kitchen to return to his study. Martha turned back to Tommy.

"You'll always be beautiful to me," Tommy whispered. "No matter what you wear, or what you don't wear."

A pink blush stained Martha's cheeks at that moment. A small smile played on her lips as her eyes searched Tommy's.

"I should…" Martha trailed off. She left the kitchen and made her way upstairs.

Tommy had to fight the urge to follow after her. He returned to the study instead where Michael and Grace spoke about his career. Tommy zoned out as he listened to Michael talk excessively about his role in society and how much money he made in a year. It was not long before Martha returned downstairs. As she entered the study, Tommy was left speechless at the sight of her.

An ivory and beaded dress adorned her body. Her hair was styled in an elegant up-do and delicate make up had been applied to her face. She looked beautiful. To Tommy, she always looked beautiful but as he stared at her, he could only describe her as breathtakingly beautiful.

Martha noticed the way Tommy was staring at her and felt her heart grow with love. She had missed seeing his true emotions. To other people, his face always remained emotionless. But to Martha, he was unable to hide the emotion in his eyes. He could never hide his true feelings from her, just like she could not with him.

"Well, that's a difference," Michael commented, noticing her arrival.

Martha turned to Michael and processed his comment. He had turned his attention back onto Grace. She noticed the way he looked at Grace, and felt sick to her stomach. It was as if all the pieces to the puzzle fell into place, and as she looked back towards Tommy, she knew what she was to do.

She would leave with Tommy that evening.


	12. Ain't Kids No More

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the lack of update with this story. There was a sudden death in the family and writing just wasn't at the forefront of my mind at all. So again, I'm sorry for the time in between the last update and this one, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven  
Ain't Kids No More**

As the small dinner party began, the atmosphere within the dining room was tense. Tommy, Grace and Martha were aware of the hostility within the room, all except Michael who seemed to be thriving off the tenseness of the whole situation. He was oblivious to the fact that the inhabitants of the room were all uncomfortable with how nonchalant and weird the entire affair was. Tommy kept an eye on Michael, taking not of the amount of whiskey he consumed. He, himself, liked to drink a lot, but Michael was on a whole other level and it worried him.

He was aware of how Michael behaved when he had too much alcohol in his system for he had seen the anger burned onto Martha's body. It took Tommy every ounce of himself to stop himself from grabbing Michael by the throat and inflicting the same pain he aimed at Martha. Tommy was aware of Martha's attention on him, and with a few stolen glances, he was able to see the fear radiating from her. Something did not feel right, he felt it immediately, Martha could feel it too, and no doubt Grace could sense something. As Grace and Martha talked in hushed tones, Tommy focused his attention on Michael as he ranted.

"There isn't a better feeling in the world than saving someone, Tommy," Michael spoke, pointing his fork at Tommy. The mere action from the doctor angered Tommy and he sneered slightly as his gaze focused in on the fork aimed towards him. He flicked his gaze back to Michael acknowledging that the man did not understand that Tommy did not appreciate it.

"I bet," Tommy commented. Michael resumed cutting up his food.

"You know, I never thought that I would have someone from such a place here in my house," Michael said.

"What do you mean by that?" Tommy raised an eyebrow, not liking how Michael had phrased his comment.

"Oh, you know… your kind," Michael answered. "Billy told me that you like to get in trouble a lot with people. Told me not to have you in my house as you may steal something."

Tommy bit his tongue, and he flicked his eyes over to Martha as he moved in his seat. Martha was staring at Michael with disbelief written all over her face. Their eyes met and she shook her head as she noticed his fist tighten together.

"Well…" Tommy began. "Billy Kimber ain't a friend of mine. He doesn't have anything good to say about me. And probably you as well."

"Anyway," Michael said, changing the subject. "How long have you and Martha known each other?"

"All my life," Tommy said, smiling slightly. "We grew up together."

"Have you ever laid with her?" Michael's question caught Tommy off guard.

"Pardon?" Tommy asked, noting the change in Michael's volume. His voice was low and controlled, something that Tommy did not like.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Have you ever been intimate with her? A year of courting, five months of being engaged and I've not been able to be intimate with her. A man has needs, you know."

Tommy watched Michael for a moment. Michael gulped the rest of his whiskey down unaware of Tommy's narrowing gaze. "Aye," he said quietly.

"She just… doesn't realise what she has."

"Well maybe you don't," Tommy commented. Michael's eyes rested on him. Tommy took a sip of his drink knowing that the conversation could go two ways. Friendly banter, or a confrontation.

"Excuse me?" Michael said sternly.

Tommy placed his glass down on the table and leaned forward. "I said… Maybe you don't realise what you have. Sometimes it's a good thing to wait. She's a woman who is in charge of her own body."

"I'm a man," Michael said simply. "I have needs. When a woman doesn't fill those needs, a man finds a woman who will. She doesn't know that I find it elsewhere. I'll let you into a little secret… her and Mary went out for the day and Billy and I… well, let's just say, it got a little wild."

"And that night, you beat her."

Tommy was aware of the attention on him. The sentence hung in the air for all to hear, and he mentally kicked himself for raising his voice enough for Martha and Grace to hear. He sensed a change in Michael's body language, but he focused in on Martha's reaction.

"What did you just say?" Michael seethed as he stood from the table.

"You know what I just said," Tommy replied. "Why did you beat her?"

"What happens between me and her doesn't concern you," Michael said angrily.

"It does concern me when you're shagging other women, possibly in the same bed she shares with you," Tommy said, watching as Michael quickly lost his composure.

Martha stood from the table and left the room quickly. It took everything within him to not follow after her.

"I'm going to be honest right now," Michael commented, breathing in deeply. "I didn't invite you here tonight out of the goodness of my heart. In fact, spending time with you was the last thing I wanted to happen because frankly, I cannot stand you. You were seen. You and Martha… kissing… down the side street. Now… I don't appreciate that."

A chuckle escaped Tommy which did not bode well with Michael. Grace watched from afar as the scene unfolded in front of her. Michael charged towards Tommy and punched him in the head. Tommy stood abruptly from his chair enough for the chair to be upturned, and shielded himself from Michael's fists. Grace stood from her seat and grabbed her bag, conscious of the fact that her gun was in the small bag. As she pulled the gun from her bag, the door to the dining room opened and she turned to see Martha stood in the doorway.

"Michael!" Martha screamed, making her way into the room and over to the two men.

As she neared them both, Michael lashed out, knocking Martha to the ground. This seemed to anger Tommy even more and before he knew it, Michael was on the ground with Tommy on top of him, hands clamped around his throat.

Grace rushed to Martha's side. Blood dripped excessively from the woman's nose and onto the wooden floor. Grace helped her up from the floor and Martha nodded gratefully towards the woman. Martha was aware of the blood dripping down her face and into the fabric of her dress, staining and ruining the delicate fabric.

She watched as Tommy beat Michael senseless for a few moments before she moved silently towards Tommy. She laid a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He immediately froze and stopped pummelling the man. A laugh erupted from Michael and they chose to ignore it.

"That all you got?" Michael sneered at Tommy, wanting a reaction from the man. "This whore has you under her thumb, hasn't she?!"

Martha turned around to stare at Michael as he struggled to get up from the floor. "I don't understand you. I don't understand _this_. What did you want to prove from this?"

"I wanted to see it for myself," Michael said. "Billy told me everything about you and him."

"Billy doesn't know anything about me or him," Martha said, motioning towards Tommy. "And even if he did, it's not any of yours or his business."

"I wanted to know if you were a whore."

"You throw that word around as though it means nothing, and I am sick of it," Martha said bitterly. "You call me a whore over anything. That's not you. You were never like this before we moved here. Why? What changed?"

"You did," Michael said simply.

"I changed? I do not think so, Michael," Martha replied, shaking her head.

The room was silent for a few moments. Tommy glanced at his hands and at the broken skin of his knuckles. Blood soaked the crevices and scars on his hands.

"I do not love you," Martha said, quietly. "I tried to love you. I really did. But I cannot lie to you nor can I lie to myself."

Michael nodded, almost expecting her to tell him that. He always knew she did not love him the way he wanted her to.

"Tommy and I… we were in love, and engaged, and ready to start our lives together. I believed him to be dead. For years, I was made to believe he had died in the war. And that evening, at Billy's party, when I saw him again, I couldn't believe it. And I cannot lie to you anymore. You deserve to know. He's the man who I love with all of my heart," Martha whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm leaving with him tonight. I am so sorry."

Martha took a step away from Michael and moved towards Tommy.

"Billy told me you offered yourself on a plate for every man on your street," Michael's voice filled the room.

"What else did Billy tell you?" Martha's voice was strong, and she was surprised that she had it within her.

"That you're diseased," Michael seethed.

"You're hurt, I understand," Martha said. "But your words and allegations mean nothing to me. They cannot hurt me anymore."

"I hope you enjoy the whore," Michael directed his attention onto Tommy who stared straight at him. "I bet she'll open her legs for you like that," he clicked his fingers and chuckled.

Tommy went to charge towards Michael but Martha stopped him with a hand on his arm. She slipped the engagement ring from her finger and placed it on the dining table.

"I hope you well in life, Michael," Martha said, taking a step towards him. "I hope you find a lovely woman who can love you with every ounce of her being. But promise me something, do not hurt her."

Michael gave a short nod. Martha nodded too, and moved towards Tommy and Grace. As they walked towards the door, Martha could not wait to leave behind everything that had happened in the past.

Except when a gunshot rang out, her entire world turned upside down.


	13. Pistol Of Fire

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. It means a lot to know you enjoyed it. Here's the next instalment.

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve  
** **Pistol of Fire**

It took a moment for Martha to realise the chaos that surrounded her as the gunshot echoed throughout the room and vibrated the air around her. She turned slowly, completely caught off guard by the loud bang that sounded behind her. Her focus was on leaving, despite how much her body shook with anxiety at the thought of standing up for herself in regards to Michael. It had been the last straw for her and with the support of Tommy being by her side, she was able to tell Michael that she did not love him the way he wanted her to.

As time slowed around her, she took in the scene unfolding before her. Tommy was still for a moment and looking at her with a blank expression on his face. For a moment, Martha believed that she had heard the gunshot in her own mind as everything behind her seemed to be normal. Except when Tommy looked away from her and down at his chest, she did the same, wondering what he was doing. His hand moved towards his chest and it was only then that Martha understood that the gunshot she had heard was real. Tommy brought his hand away from his chest as blood stained his fingertips.

Realisation hit Martha hard and on instinct, she closed the gap between her and Tommy and reached him just as he staggered forward. She was aware of movement around her, and she saw the fabric of Grace's dress bounce as the woman chased after Michael who had escaped the room. Tommy was knelt in front of her, his head and upper body heaved forward as the pain reverberated throughout his entire body.

"It went through," Tommy croaked, a hint of worry in his voice. "That's good."

Martha wanted to question him at that moment, wondering what was so good about being shot, but she bit her tongue. She whispered, "What do I do?"

"I need you… to put pressure on it…" Tommy panted. "We need to get… out… of here…"

Martha nodded just as Tommy's weight grew heavier and he slid forward to the floor. She caught him and acted as a barrier to the hard crash he was expected to make. He winced as searing pain pierced through him, breaking through his pain barrier. He had been shot before but this was different. It was just too close to laugh it off with a bottle of whiskey to mask the pain like he had done before.

Tommy gathered all the strength he could and attempted to stand. Martha helped him as much as she could, aware that he was a lot stronger than she was, and she acted as his weight support. Using the wall as an extra support, Tommy was aware of his shallow breathing but said nothing. He did not want to worry Martha any further.

Grace returned then, and made her way to his side quickly. She hooked one of Tommy's arms around her shoulder and Martha followed suit and working together, they carried Tommy towards the car. They both noticed that his weight grew heavier which for Grace was not a good sign. As they placed him gently in the back seat of his car, Grace ordered for Martha to keep an eye on his breathing, as well as putting pressure on both wounds, and to keep him as conscious as she could. She nodded, in shock, and was aware of Grace taking the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Tommy's eyes were closed, and his thick and long eyelashes brushed the apples of his cheeks. She used to study him when he slept all those years ago, and found that when he slept, he looked so peaceful in both mind and body. She would trace her fingers against his cheeks, and down along his jaw where she would reach for his lips, parted slightly as he dreamed, as she would graze her thumb against his dry lips, feeling the warm breath escaping his mouth that would tickle the palm of her hand. There was no strain to his expression like there was now.

He hissed in pain, and fluttered his eyes open. Martha's eyes met his and she looked at him sadly. He noticed the tears filling her eyes and he raised his blood stained hands towards her face where he gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ssh, it's going to be okay," Tommy whispered, although he, himself, was unsure of that promise.

"He shot you, Tommy," Martha whispered.

Tommy nodded but he was silent. The pain was remarkable, and as it came in waves, he understood he was not prepared for the next wave to crash into him. He offered Martha a small smile as she offered more pressure to his chest.

"I don't want to lose you," Martha whispered sadly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Tommy whispered, cursing himself for promising her another thing that could not be certain.

As Grace closed the gap between themselves and their destination, she was aware of the conversation happening behind her. It pained her to think of Tommy loving another woman. He had a past with her, they had planned a future together, and there was no room for her in Tommy's heart any longer, if there had even been a place for her in there to begin with. She saw the way Tommy looked at Martha. It was the same look she wished he would look at her with.

"Tommy?" Martha's voice snapped her back into reality. "Tommy… please, wake up…"

Grace heard the anxiety in her voice, and put her foot down, hoping that the car would carry them quicker to their destination. They were close to where they were going, but they were not close enough in Grace's opinion.

"Tommy!" Martha urged for Tommy to wake up, but the heaviness in his body as he laid on top of her lap was significant. He was unresponsive, no matter what she did to try and rouse him.

They came to the street they needed, and Grace pulled up outside the house abruptly. Martha held Tommy tightly waiting for the impact of the abrupt stop. This seemed to stir up unwanted attention and the doors to the houses that lined the street opened. When Arthur opened the door to the house to see what the noise was, the two women were glad to see him. Grace hopped out of the car, her voice shaking as she relayed the information to Arthur, just as the rest of the boys exited the house. They moved towards the back seat and helped Martha with Tommy, carrying him into the house as gently and as quickly as they could.

The urgency in the air was intense as Martha watched as the men cleared the dining table with a swipe of the arm, and laid Tommy on top of the wooden surface. Aunt Pol appeared at that moment, and with a paled expression and sad eyes, whispered: "Family only." She closed the door leaving Martha and Grace to stand outside in the relative calmness of the street as everyone returned to their homes.

"Come," Grace whispered. She led the way towards the pub, knowing that she was not the only one who needed a strong drink. She was aware of her own footsteps being the only ones echoing throughout the street, and she turned. Martha remained where she was – as if her feet were glued to the street outside. She wanted to enter the house, be there with him, make sure he was still alive, but it was clear as day that she was not welcome. The guilt of the whole situation weighed heavily upon her shoulders. The guilt of Tommy getting hurt clouded her mind.

Martha felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at Grace.

"Come on," Grace said, leading Martha to the pub. She felt her feet begin to carry her to the establishment with the help of Grace's hand guiding her.

The pub quietened as they entered the pub, all eyes lying upon them as the door closed behind them. The men drinking placed their beers down on the table as their eyes scanned the bodies of the women, their eyebrows furrowing at the sight of them. Martha, self-consciously, glanced down at herself and noticed for the first time the blood that stained her dress. Grace turned to Martha and watched as she took the state of herself.

"Go in that room," Grace whispered, pointing to the small side room next to the bar. Martha nodded and closed the door behind her.

Grace walked over to the bar, placed two large glasses on the surface and poured expensive whiskey into the glasses aware of the pub being quiet. She carried them into the room, closing the door behind her, as the chatter resumed as soon as the door closed behind her.

Martha was stood staring into the mirror fixed onto the wall. Her hand reached her swollen nose and took in the dried blood that had ran down her face. Her eyes were bruised. She looked a mess.

"Here," Grace said. "Get this down you."

Martha took the glass willingly, and took a sip. She winced at the bitterness of the liquid but continued to drink, feeling as the shakiness of her body began to calm a little with each sip. They sat in silence, their eyes focused on the table in front of them. Though their bodies were physically away from him, their thoughts were with him.

As they sat there in the pub, they did not know that his heart had stopped twice. They did not know that his family were working tirelessly to stop the bleeding, and when they thought it was the end of the line for him, he had surprised them with a gasp for air.

As the night deepened, the two women remained in the room. They were aware of the sun teasing the world outside the pub with little streaks of light coming from behind the clouds then hiding away. As the hours stretched by, they remained there unmoving. They had hoped that news would reach them that Tommy was okay but when no news arrived, they feared the worst.

Life without Tommy before was incredibly hard for Martha, and she wondered what she would do without him now if he was taken from her. The thought of her losing him was unbearable. He had just returned to her life, and him being taken from her so soon would be a cruel joke.

"He's strong," Grace whispered. "He'll pull through this."

Martha observed Grace for a moment. She nodded, taking another sip and wincing. She placed the glass on the table and pushed it away from her.

"I made this happen," Martha's voice was low and full of guilt.

"This is not your fault," Grace whispered.

"I should've stayed with him," Martha whispered. "I should've set Tommy free. I put him in danger."

"You do no such thing," Grace said, moving closer to Martha. "We didn't know that Michael had a gun. It could've been any of us. He could've shot any of us."

"But he shot Tommy," Martha whispered. "To get to me, he shot Tommy."

Grace was silent for a moment. "We don't know that."

The door to the room opened and the two women turned to the man standing in the doorway. Arthur was pale, dark circle under his eyes, and his clothes stained with blood. Martha and Grace stood to the news. Anxiety and fear clung to Martha's heart.

"He's stable."


	14. Till The Sun Turns Black

**Chapter Thirteen  
Till The Sun Turns Black**

The house was silent as they entered through the front door. Martha observed Tommy's family sitting around the living room, their expressions blank and solemn. No one uttered a word as each of them individually tried to process the events that unfolded. They watched Martha closely as Arthur led her into the house, all of them taking note of her appearance. They all wondered the same thing: what had happened exactly?

Tommy was stable for the most part. They had been able to stabilise him as best as they could, but they all knew that anything could happen. His condition could worsen over time and death would be inevitable. Arthur had seen it happen in the war. Men were up and fighting one day, get hit with a bullet and seem fine and in good spirits then the next day, they were being carried out of the tent, cold and dead.

Life was cruel no matter how good of a person you were.

Arthur led Martha upstairs and along the small corridor to Tommy's room, as if she had not been there before. As he opened the door, she was able to see that the room was engulfed with sunshine which for her was ironic. When her world was dark and bleak, the world around her was bright. Arthur stepped aside allowing Martha entry into the room. Aunt Pol stood by the fireplace, her eyes worryingly stuck on the unconscious Tommy as he lay unmoving on his bed. It took her a moment to register that Martha had entered the room but as soon as she saw her, the anger within her began to rise. She crossed the room quickly, and smacked Martha across the face.

Arthur pulled Aunt Pol away from the young woman. Martha stood in silence, a hand placed upon her cheek as heat radiated from the force of the smack. Tears stung her eyes as the shock overwhelmed her.

"Enough," Arthur warned, to which Aunt Pol nodded and stepped away. "Tommy wouldn't want that."

She wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to calm and comfort herself as she watched the woman stood in silence. Martha understood the anger that Aunt Pol was feeling, she really did.

"I'm so sorry for what happened," Martha whispered, her voice low but audible to the both of them. "We were leaving together, and there was a gunshot that came out of nowhere. I didn't know that Michael had a gun on him. I didn't know he was going to do that, I really didn't."

"You could've just let him get on with his life," Aunt Pol said bitterly. "You could've continued to live your perfect life and never darkened Tommy's life again."

"Coming from the person who told me he was dead," Martha bit back.

Aunt Pol fell silent. She stared at Martha for a moment, trying to think of what to say back.

"Why did you do that?" Martha asked. "Why ruin both of our lives in that way?"

When only silence filled the room, Martha shook her head sadly. "This is not the time nor the place for this. Tommy does not deserve this. I will never ever forgive myself for putting him in harm's way like that again. I love him so much."

"I know you do," Aunt Pol whispered. "But this-" she said, pointing to Tommy unconscious and wounded on his bed. "-this is because of you. If you hadn't come back in his life, he would be just fine."

Martha nodded, sadly. She had thought about it for a while, wondering if her return to Birmingham was doing more bad than good. The very fact that Tommy was alive made her feel saddened due to the many years that had passed them by. They had both lost out on so much that it made Martha question whether or not it was the right thing in staying. Was it better to stick her head in the sand and continue on with her life? Or was it better to leave his life and let him have that chance of finding his own destiny? Her feelings towards him had never changed, for it was certain that time changed nothing. She loved him with every inch of her being, but was she holding him back?

"We'll leave the two of ya alone," Arthur broke the silence, ushering Aunt Pol out of the room. He nodded towards Martha who offered him a sad smile.

Once the door was closed behind Arthur, Martha went over to the window. Through the net curtain, she watched as the men of the street went off to work. The early morning sun offered a golden glow over the dark terraced houses. Birds tweeted in the distance and she closed her eyes for a moment. She took her hair out of the up-do, feeling the tension overwhelm her head as her hair tumbled down her back.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy," she begun. Her voice was low and full of sadness.

Her mind travelled back to the night before, memories flooding back to her in waves. Her mind was scattered, tiredness overwhelming and numbing her senses. She was aware of the dull ache radiating throughout her head. She had not picked up on Michael's weird behaviour, still reeling from the shock of seeing Tommy at the house. Had he planned it all? Had he planned to hurt Tommy, or rather planned to cause her harm? Taking Tommy away from her would destroy her, he must have known that.

Tommy had been shot in the back. He was hurt. His whole world for the mean time was on hold. Would he ever make a full recovery? Would he ever wake up again? The guilt within her was strong and the pain within her heart was unexplainable.

"I have loved no other man in my whole life, and now, the thought of truly losing you is unbearable," Martha whispered. She turned to look at him. He was pale, quiet, and unconscious. "My life without you in it was dark. There was not a day that went by where I was happy whenever I woke up to a new day. But these past few weeks, of you being back in my life again, have been the happiest I've ever been. Were you hurt because I love you too much?"

Her question remained hanging in the silence of the room. She closed her eyes tightly, and took a deep breath hoping that it would calm her shaking body.

Martha moved over towards Tommy. She kneeled down on the floor by his bedside and stared at his sleeping form. He looked peaceful. His face was calm and serene.

"Please wake up, Tommy," Martha whispered. "I need you."

A few hours later witnessed the change in daylight as the hours crept by. Arthur had returned to the room a few hours later to check up on Tommy, and had found Martha resting against his bedside asleep. He checked Tommy's pulse, relieved when he found it, and left the two of them alone once more. He had descended downstairs where his family had remained and had told them not to disturb them.

As soon as the door had clicked shut, Tommy had jolted awake. His movement seemed to go unnoticed by Martha who continued to sleep, and he moved his head to the side to watch her for a few moments. A small smile played on his mouth as he gently stroked her hand with his thumb. The pain he felt was intense. It came to him in waves; if he moved slightly, it became agonising but if he remained still as possible then the pain subsided for a moment. He was not a man who enjoyed lounging around or to be weak in front of his peers. They had seen him in the worst way possible and that was enough.

Martha stirred then, and he watched as her eyes opened and fell on him almost immediately. The fear within her eyes spoke a thousand words and he pulled her to him as gently and as carefully as he could. She was aware of her need to be gentle and she allowed him to pull her close to him. His face rested against her neck and he breathed in her scent.

"He shot me, aye?" Tommy commented.

Martha nodded against him, hot tears streaming from her face. She pulled back for a moment and gently touched his face, tracing his thumb across his skin, across his lips. Her eyes searched every inch of her face, and he watched as the tears fell from her face and landed upon his bare chest.

"I'm sorry," Martha whispered.

"It wasn't your fault, Martha," Tommy whispered. "Hey, look at me. I'm fine."

Martha nodded sadly. He pulled her to him once more, and this time his lips met hers and they kissed each other with such passion that both of them were taken aback by the force of the kiss. Martha pulled away after a moment, and rubbed her lips together.

"What happened to your face?" Tommy asked, noticing her reddened cheek.

Martha was silent for a moment. "Polly," she whispered to which Tommy sighed aggressively. "She was scared. You were hurt."

"Gives her no right to slap you though," Tommy said, tracing his fingers over the hand mark that stained her cheek. Heat radiated from it and he winced.

Martha shrugged. "I'm glad you're awake."

Tommy smiled. "So am I."

Tommy pulled her to him once more and they laid in silence. It had been a rough night for them all, but it was moments like this, that he understood why bad things had to happen for the best things to happen in life. He had Martha by his side and that made everything that had happened a little bit more worthwhile.


	15. Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:** There's a slight warning for this chapter as it involves sexual scenes. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen  
Birds of a Feather**

Several days later witnessed Tommy slowly and steadily recuperating much to Martha's delight. Seeing Tommy in such a state as the one he had been, she questioned whether or not he was going to fully heal. He was a strong man but what had happened to him had affected him to his very core and had forced him to sit back and gather his strength. He was stubborn in the sense that he was mentally prepared to move about but his body wouldn't allow him to continue at his previous pace. He had to be careful as any sudden movements caused a lot of strain upon his wound. Martha watched as he struggled with not being able to do what he wanted when he wanted, and had to rely on her and his family to help with simple things like dressing and moving around. He was mostly confined to his bedroom, and even though he did enjoy isolating himself often, having the isolation decided for him, however, was a struggle. He hated having to rely on the four walls and whatever else was brought into the room to occupy his thoughts during the day and during the nights where sleep evaded him.

Martha had spent time organising the books on offer for him, knowing that he was fussy when it came to things like that. Tommy needed constant reassurance that his days of being stuck in the same room would come to an end sooner than he could imagine. Tommy, however, couldn't wish for that day to come sooner.

So when the days turned into a full week, Tommy took it into his own hands and slipped out of bed before Martha could wake and refuse him from making too much movement. He glanced back at her sleeping form, her hand resting upon the warmth of which his body had just laid, and watched as she continued sleeping. He moved his arm slowly, mostly to loosen the muscle up slightly. The tightness in his chest made him wince but it was not audible enough for it to wake Martha. He gently warmed up his chest, aware that too much too soon would cause serious injury. Once he felt the tight pull of his chest, he stopped and moved slowly over towards the window.

The street outside was dark, and he was able to see the men leave the houses for a long day at work at the ship yard. They joined together and moved down the street until the darkness swallowed them up. Tommy sighed and took a seat on the wooden chair. His eyes fell on Martha, and he felt a rush of love overwhelm him. The bruising had begun to heal across her face from the crack to her nose that Michael had given her, and she was able to sleep more soundly. It felt almost surreal for Tommy to see Martha every morning when he woke, watch as she read a book oblivious to his attention upon her, or when he watched her sleep. It was surreal for him to feel her close to him, and feel the coldness or warmth of her skin in the middle of the night, to feel her fingers trace circles upon his arm, or feel her smile spread across his skin. It was as if no time had passed them by and they had always been together.

Martha, subconsciously, was aware of the missing body next to her. She opened her eyes slowly, and saw that the side that Tommy slept on was empty. She sat up delirious with sleep and as panic rose with her, she looked around the room where her eyes fell upon Tommy sat uncomfortable in the wooden chair by the window. He was topless, and the bandage upon his chest was clean from blood. His eyes were on her and she felt the intensity coming from him. She looked away as the butterflies fluttered in her stomach and goosebumps scattered across her skin.

The passion within his eyes was overpowering. And she listened to the creak of the chair as he stood up and moved across the room towards her. She tried to control her breathing as he came into view, and dipped his head in front of her and found her mouth where he gently brushed his lips against hers. The moment was peaceful and loving, and the world felt as though it had stopped for the both of them to enjoy this moment together. Tommy slid onto the bed next to Martha, and brought his hands up to her face where he caressed her face.

Martha deepened the kiss and moved closer to him. Her fingers trailed through his hair untamed due to sleep, and she felt the passion and love for him burn within her. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, to be with him, to be loved by him. He moved with her and trailed his fingers through her hair as he pushed her back onto the bed gently so that he was on top of her.

Martha broke away from the kiss, worried. "Tommy… your wound…"

"It's okay," Tommy whispered, placing a single kiss upon her lips. "I'm okay."

That was all Martha needed and the twosome resumed their kiss. Tommy allowed his hand to meet her thigh and he caressed the softness of the skin. He heard Martha gasp into the kiss as his fingers traced the length of her thigh where they stopped at her centre. Tommy smirked into the kiss, knowing that she was not expecting the waves of pleasure to overwhelm her, and kept his hand moving as she writhed beneath him. Her movements against him seemed to awaken his member and he groaned huskily into the darkness.

The early morning sun was beginning to lighten the street outside, but was ignored by the two inhabitants of the small room as they explored each other's body.

Tommy pulled away from the kiss, and rested on his knees as he hooked his fingers into her undergarments and tugged them down her legs where he threw them across the room. A giggle escaped Martha as she watched him discard her intimate garments without a care. Tommy smirked at Martha's reaction, and parted her knees.

"Stay," Tommy huskily whispered as he moved from the bed.

Martha's eyes danced across his body as she watched him remove his bottoms. "Yes Thomas," she whispered jokily to which he growled in response.

He slid back onto the bed and positioned himself between her parted legs. His lips found hers once more and slowly slid into her warmth. Martha closed her eyes as he moved inside her slowly, and allowed herself to feel every inch of him. She moaned deeply as his lips moved to her neck and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Tommy listened to her soft moans as they vibrated the air around him and filled his senses. Goosebumps scattered across his body.

They moved together as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm them completely. The need to be close to each other was intense, and Tommy felt himself beginning to lose himself. For so long, he found comfort in other women. It was never a loving affair, or something he wanted to invest his emotions in. He had done that with Martha and circumstances had caused her to be away from him. Making love to Martha was completely different to what he used to do with women who fulfilled his need to be close to another person. He'd changed as a person in the four years since he was last with Martha – and he hoped that his whole perception of love and showing Martha love in an intimate manner was not different.

Martha seemed to notice the shift in Tommy's movements. She stared intently into his eyes, their bodies still. "Stay here with me, Tommy," she whispered as she stroked his face. "Where did you go?"

Tommy clenched his jaw. He closed his eyes for a moment before his gaze met hers once more. "Some place."

"Good or bad?" she asked, her voice husky with lust.

"Bad…" Tommy said honestly. "A place I never want to visit again."

Martha nodded slowly. She caressed his cheek gently, her eyes skimming over the curves of his face, and she inhaled. "I want to make love to you, Tommy."

The room was now engulfed in light, and as the early morning sun poured into his small room, Tommy was able to see the love in Martha's eyes. There was something else that he was able to pick up, and he felt his heart swell with pride. Confidence. He offered a small nod, and moved to position himself on his back. Martha moved, and with Tommy's hands guiding her, she straddled him. She kept her hands in his mostly to support herself, and moved against him as her eyes remained on Tommy's face. His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth was agape.

She pulled Tommy's hands and laid them upon her thighs that were positioned next to him, and with her free hands, she slipped her nightdress from her body. Coldness seemed to wrap itself around her body like a thick cloak, and Tommy seemed to notice the slight chill scatter across her body in goosebumps. His hands moved up her thighs where they rested upon her waist. He needed to hold her close. He sat upwards slowly allowing Martha to become accustomed with the fullness of his movement, and she laid her head on his shoulder and moaned. Tommy ran his hands up and down the length of her back, grazing his nails against her delicate skin and feeling her shiver at his touch.

She lifted her head, and their eyes met. They moved together slowly at first, and the pleasure began to increase as well as the need to be close to each other. They held each other, kissed the skin accessible to them, moaned in please, felt their skin burn and cheeks flush as they rode through the bliss and ecstasy.

Panting, they remained clinging to each other as beads of sweat ran down their faces. Tommy traced kisses upon Martha's collarbone, sweeping up her neck and along her jaw until he found her mouth.

They lay in silence, with limbs intertwined. Martha lay with her head over his uninjured shoulder with her fingertips grazing his chest. She placed her hand over his heart, feeling the thudding against her palm and closed her eyes. This was where she was supposed to be, where she should always have been.


	16. Gossip In The Grain

**Chapter Fifteen  
Gossip in the Grain**

Aunt Pol had always been a head strong woman. She was the backbone of the family, keeping all the men and boys in line so they did not stray too far. She kept up appearances, never once leaving her lips without the red stain that soon became her signature, nor once leaving the house without looking as if she was going to step onto stage. She was a matriarch of sorts, with the boys in the Shelby clan, as well as those who worked for them, following her advice and rules. She was respected – wholeheartedly respected by all – and those who did not give her the respect she deserved knew they would pay a price. She had worked hard to get to where she was, but with power came hidden heartache that was relentless. It threatened to show at times, but she was good at keeping the mask she wore from slipping.

And it often slipped at the best of times. Tommy had seen the mask well and truly clatter to the ground more times than he would ever admit. Loyalty was huge part of the Shelby family, and he always made sure that when Aunt Pol's mask did slip, that he took a step forward and controlled the situation. They had an unspoken respect – both had been in positions where they believed their world was becoming darker than what it was, and both of them were able to build each other back up when it all became too much.

When Tommy returned from war, he was not the same Tommy that had left. He was different, scarred, damaged. He suffered from debilitating nightmares. He would find himself cowering into the corner when he heard raised voices or loud noises from afar. He would spend nights pacing across the floor of his bedroom believing that the enemy were in the walls listening and waiting until he fell asleep. He would only be able to sleep if someone was in the same room as him. And that person had been Aunt Pol.

Aunt Pol had become his backbone, his pillar of strength, and his shoulder to cry on. He was vulnerable, with the war having stripped him down to nothing more than a shell of his former self. She took care of him, showed him that he should not let his pain engulf him, allowed him to take time to fully heal from the mental scars that plagued his life.

The guilt of what she had done weighed heavily on her shoulders when she saw how much pain he was in. He was crippled with anxiety, plagued with an unknown enemy that seemed to creep out of the darkness when he was least expecting it. He had needed someone, and even though Aunt Pol had been there, she understood that he did not want her there. He had needed the woman who had shown him how to love. He had needed the woman who had spent years by his side. He had needed the woman who had loved him with her whole being, and the woman who she had sent away.

Martha had been removed from his life in a heartbeat, and it was all down to Polly's decision. It scared her to know how Tommy would react, and she knew he would take it badly when the truth came out. Martha was his sweetheart, and he believed she had left him because he was damaged and weak.

Once the truth had come out that Aunt Pol was behind the letter that had been sent to Martha, it felt like the weight that was beginning to bury her into the ground lifted and she was able to see the world a little clearer. She knew that Tommy resented her for lying to both him and Martha, but part of him understood her reasons for doing it. She was thinking of Martha and the pain of seeing Tommy differently. He hated the idea of returning from war – if he returned at all – and having to see the pain in Martha's eyes when she realised that Tommy was not the same man. It all made sense to Tommy. For Martha, however, it hurt her. Even though she had been young when Tommy went to war, there would be nothing in the world that Tommy could ever do for her to see him in a different light.

Tommy had saved Martha more times than she liked to admit. Having been orphaned and having no family whatsoever to be there for her, her future was bleak. She had been thirteen years old, wrapped up in rags with her hair and skin matted with dirt. She had slept on the street for a few months before Tommy had stumbled across her one evening when he came home from the pub. He had taken her to the Shelby house and had her clean herself up. The house had been empty with the family remaining in the pub. As Tommy gave her a plate of food, Martha had slowly undressed knowing that payment was always required for food, to which Tommy had looked away and ordered her to dress herself once more. Martha had been confused and Tommy had explained that not all men were like the men she had met. Her actions had not angered him, but had upset him to think that a girl close to his sister Ada's age had been made to do such demeaning things for basic survival.

Martha had quickly found her role in the household, and Ada was pleased to know that there was another young girl who she was able to talk to. Being the only young girl in the family, she often found herself wishing she was somewhere else. But as Martha got used to the chaos and mayhem surrounding her, she was able to understand that she was not expected to leave so soon. For Ada, she was able to have the young sister that she had always wished for. Through the years, Martha and Ada had become close and bonded over their love of theatre. They would read the newspaper and see all the glamorous photographs of women in black and white on stage dressed in beautiful gowns and hoped that one day, it would be their own photographs printed for everyone to see.

Martha's departure had not only hurt Tommy to his core, but it had broken Ada. Her non-biological sister had disappeared from her life, and there was nothing she could do to make sure she returned. Ada just had to hope that one day Martha returned. But when the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months and the months eventually turned into years without any trace or word from Martha, the pain Ada felt had turned into anger.

Martha's return, however, had not softened the blow for Ada. And Aunt Pol understood that Ada had been hurt by her as well.

Footsteps on the stairs caused Aunt Pol to snap back to reality quickly. She watched and waited as Martha came downstairs, and offered Aunt Pol a small smile. The atmosphere between the two women had been tense after Tommy's injury. Tommy had explained to both of them separately that it was probably best to keep away from each other until he was better. They both agreed but both women acknowledged that it could not continue this way.

Tommy had left the house to see over a few jobs that required his attention. He left Martha a note on his pillow letting her know where he was going. She had gotten dressed and had taken a deep breath before descending downstairs.

Aunt Pol took a sip of her steaming cup of tea and nodded towards the young girl. "There's tea in the pot if you'd like some."

Martha thanked her, and poured herself a cup. She took a seat at the table, opposite Aunt Pol.

"I'm sorry," Aunt Pol said, breaking the silence. Martha glanced up at her and remembered the burn of the slap across her face. She tenderly reached her hand up to her cheek. "Not for that…"

"That would be too easy," Martha commented to which Aunt Pol smirked.

"It would. But that felt good," Aunt Pol said, to which Martha rolled her eyes. "I wanted to apologise for what I did… that made you leave."

"Are you though?" Martha asked boldly.

"Yes," Aunt Pol said. "I've watched him these last few days and it's like no time has passed. I wanted him to move on from you. It was selfish, I understand. He was so in love with you. You were so in love with him. And that made me sad to think that if Tommy didn't come back, how would you cope? He plucked you from the street and you'd created this life together with the promise of London being your destination and I thought to myself, 'This cannot last'. You were still young enough to find a husband who would give you financial stability."

"You thought that I wanted financial stability?" Martha said, disgusted. "I loved Tommy. His 'death' caused me to not want to live either. The only thing I could truly do was to try and live the way he would want me to."

Martha fell silent. Aunt Pol watched the young woman for a moment, noticing how her eyes filled with tears. Aunt Pol was not a cold nor cruel woman. And all she wanted to do, in that moment, was to wrap the girl up in her arms and give her comfort. Martha had been young when she joined their family, and Aunt Pol had always seen potential in her. Even though Martha had not had the best start in life, she had the potential to make her life the best it could be. However, whether that was with Tommy or not, Aunt Pol was not sure.

"There was no malice in what I did," Aunt Pol said calmly.

Martha nodded slowly. "Is that an apology?"

Aunt Pol chuckled. "Maybe."

"Then I'll take it," Martha said. "I want to reassure you. I love Tommy with all of my being. There's not a thing about him that I don't love."

As the two women made up, Tommy stood outside silent, the door slightly ajar as he listened to the two important women in his life make amends. It felt such a relief knowing that they had forgiven each other for what had gone on. There was no denying the fact that Martha's words regarding him were true. It showed on her face and how she moved that her love towards Tommy was just as strong for him now than it was then. He was happy – for the first time in a long time. But something weighed heavily on his mind as he thought about their current situation and the fact that Michael had been seen around the area by Shelby's men, and the threat of him returning was something that Tommy was unable to shake.


	17. Nothing Without Love

**Chapter Sixteen  
Nothing Without Love**

Tommy had awoken before Martha, and had spent some time in bed watching as she slept, her mind creating dreams for her to explore. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, and laid a gently hand upon her to feel the movement of her breathing. The warmth of his hand had caused a small reaction, one that stirred her gently but was not enough to fully wake her. Her eyes remained closed, the long eyelashes fanning across the apples of her cheeks, and her lips, ajar and cracked, murmured his name in a husky, tired voice.

"I'm here," he whispered quietly, unsure as to whether she was waking or if it was part of her dream. He kept his eyes upon her sleeping form and a soft, genuine smile etched across his face. He thought of the last couple of days and how much his life had changed. The love he'd had for Martha before he left for war was incomparable. He could never put into words the connection he had with her, and never in his life would he imagine having a love as strong as theirs. She knew his flaws, and she loved him anyway.

It was a strange concept for him. He believed she had left him. He had believed that she had made the decision to leave purely because her love for him had diminished and faded as quickly as he had from her life. But that was not the case. It had never been the case. He never believed in fate, but having her return to him made him believe in it a little more.

He slipped out of the bed as quietly as possible, and made his way downstairs to grab the two of them breakfast. Since what had happened at the house, they had been holed up inside with him healing for the most part. It was a great moment for them to reconnect wholly, and find out more about the other, as time had passed between them. They had both changed, there was no doubt about that, but little things remained the same. The way she would automatically rub at her neck when she was nervous. The way she blushed whenever he looked over at her. The way she excitedly rambled about things she enjoyed. The way she picked at the hem of her dress when caught in a moment.

They had spent most of the time reminiscing about the past, about how they met, and how their love for each other had brought them back.

The house was cold as he descended downstairs. The street outside was bleak, and he hurried as he made breakfast. As he toasted the bread, scraped on marmalade and poured the tea, he was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He could feel it; deep down in the pit of his stomach, anxiety was eating away at him. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something did not feel right. He was good at reading situations, and for the most part, he'd stayed away from trouble. But he knew that trouble would find him in the end. It always did. He knew the situation he and Martha found themselves in was not the best one, there was no denying the fact that some people would be out for blood.

Michael had remained hidden, just as they had done. But monsters always hid in the shadows, waiting and biding their time to strike. He knew men like that, who waited for the perfect moment to creep out into the sunlight and cause trouble.

Tommy pushed it to the back of his mind as he made his way back to Martha. As he pushed the door open quietly, a tray in his hands, he saw that Martha was sat up in bed, a small smile on her tired face.

"You were snoring," Tommy joked. "Kept me up all night."

Martha chuckled lightly. "I do not snore."

"You do," Tommy smirked. "I'm surprised the street didn't wake up to you."

"Ha-ha," Martha fake laughed.

"I made some breakfast," Tommy said. "For me. Yours is downstairs."

Tommy sat in bed, and placed the tray on his lap. He began to eat the toast and marmalade, his gaze occasionally flicking to Martha who watched him with a smirk on her face.

"Mm… it tastes delicious," he commented. "I would offer you some but it's just too good to share."

Martha chuckled. "You're so cruel!"

Tommy turned to look at Martha. "Would you like some?" he asked, to which Martha nodded politely. He offered her some and as she went to take it from him, he whipped it back. "Kiss…"

Martha moved towards him and gently brushed her lips against his. The tanginess of the marmalade was on his lips, and as they kissed, Martha moved a hand to the plate and stole a slice of toast from it.

"You thief," Tommy said, his lips still upon hers. Martha chuckled and moved away, taking a bite of the toast. They ate in silence, with Tommy passing Martha her tea. She relished the taste of the tea.

"You always made the best tea," Martha whispered. "I missed that."

Tommy reached for her hand and grazed his thumb across her knuckles. "You're the only one who likes the way I make it."

"Good," Martha said. "More for me."

Tommy chuckled. He bit at his lip as he watched her eat the rest of her breakfast. He pondered over a thought, one that he was unsure as to how Martha would feel about it.

"Let's get out of this house," he began. "We've been cooped up in here for weeks now, and as nice as it has been, let's get out there again. We'll dress up and we'll go for dinner some place nice."

"The Garrison?" Martha smirked.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Tommy chuckled. "No. We'll go into town, to a fancy restaurant."

"It sounds like a great idea," Martha replied. "Are you sure it isn't too soon?"

Tommy shook his head. "We have to show our faces again."

"If you're sure," said Martha. "Then we'll do that."

It was planned for them to go to a restaurant in the evening. They pulled themselves out of bed and began to prepare for their date. It was exciting for Martha, as she had never been out with Tommy in a grown up setting before. She acknowledged the butterflies dancing in her stomach, and could not wait to spend more time with him. Tommy had announced to Martha that he had to leave for a little while, and as he left, she got a bath prepared.

As she relaxed in the bath, she closed her eyes and thought of Tommy. She had to pinch herself every time she thought of him, even being in his company was not enough to convince her that it was real. But he was there. And she could not stop herself from grinning from ear to ear. It was a while later when the door to the bathroom opened, and panicking that it was someone else, Martha covered herself as much as she could. The door was shut quickly and Martha laughed loudly as she realised that it was Tommy.

"I have something for you," he said as he hung the rather large present on the back of the door.

"Is it a bicycle?" Martha smirked. Tommy glanced back at the door.

"How did you guess?" Tommy smirked. He moved to the bath, and got down on his knees beside her. Her hair was wet and hung in wet strands around her face, and her cheeks were red from the heat of the water. He grazed his fingers across her face and cupped her chin, and looked lovingly at her. "You're beautiful."

Martha glanced away shyly.

"I got you a dress for this evening," Tommy said. "I know you had to leave all your belongings behind. I wanted to make you feel special this evening."

"You didn't have to," Martha said.

"I know," Tommy replied. "But I do. You're my life, Martha."

He gently kissed her hand and stood, unbuttoning his shirt. He stripped off and as Martha giggled, he slipped into the bath as water splashed across the floor.

The restaurant was a grand affair. The atmosphere was electric as Tommy led Martha to their table, weaving in and out of tables filled with people in glamorous dresses and expensive suits. Candles adorned the tables, as shiny cutlery and expensive glasses were placed delicately upon the wood. Fabrics, golden and shiny, hung from the ceilings, leading towards the main dinner hall. The chatter seemed to cease as soon as they had stepped onto the floor, and she felt a little out of place, knowing that if they knew of her past, they would turn their noses up at her. Tommy must've sensed her hesitancy and squeezed her hand reassuringly, as all heads turned to watch them.

Martha breathed in deeply. She felt important being there with Tommy. They took a seat at their table, aware of the attention on them. Tommy was watching how Martha was handling the eyes upon her, and from the aversion of gaze, he knew that she was not dealing with it as well as he had originally thought.

As the night deepened, the patrons of the dinner hall seemed to forget about them and resumed with their own meals. Martha was grateful, and Tommy felt relieved at being able to spend the evening with Martha and without the worry of their every move being watched by those around them.

Food had been consumed, wine had been drunk, and they were enjoying each other's company. As the hours went by, the dinner hall had dwindled down to a mere few couples and Tommy could relax wholly.

"You look beautiful," Tommy commented. The dress that he had gone out and purchased for Martha had gone down incredibly well, and she was pleased with how well he had chosen. It was a nude embellished shift dress with a stunning art deco beaded pattern adorning the material. As soon as Martha had seen it, she had fallen in love with it.

"I feel beautiful," Martha whispered. "I don't want this night to end."

It was as if her words were a signal for trouble to roll in, and she blinked a few times hoping that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The man met her gaze and with a sickening smirk began to make his way over to their table.

"Martha?" Tommy called out to her, and, sensing her panic, turned around.

Standing there was Kimber.

"Well… if it isn't the whore and the bandit."


	18. The Whore And The Bandit

**Author's Note:** Hello again! It's been a while! It's been a whole year since I last updated and I can't believe it's been that long! So this chapter fills in quite a lot of missing pieces in this story, of who Martha was before she met Tommy, as well as what she has been through. A lot of it quite heavy so I will put a warning here. Hope you enjoy! All reviews are welcome and appreciated! Thank you!

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen  
** **The Whore and The Bandit**

The atmosphere within the restaurant had shifted as Kimber pulled a chair to sit at the table. Tommy kept a watchful gaze upon Martha; her eyes shifted to Kimber in a panicked motion. She was fidgeting with her hands, bringing them up to touch her hair every opportunity she was given – a sign that notified Tommy just how uncomfortable she truly was. She kept her eyes down on the table, her anxiety causing her to shut down completely. Tommy turned his attention to Kimber who was staring at Martha with the same sickening smirk on his face.

"Well… please, don't stop the conversation on my account," Kimber spoke. "Seeing you two crazy kids out in public has caused me some concern."

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Tommy asked, impatient.

"Haven't you heard? You've got a price on your head, kid," Kimber commented, picking up the menu and scanning through it. "Are you sure you want all that trouble for a bit of skirt?"

"Don't talk about her like that," Tommy snarled, keeping his voice low. He felt his blood begin to boil as Kimber remained sat there with the annoying smirk playing on his face, enjoying the fact that he knew exactly where to hit Tommy. Martha was, and always would be, his weak point. He was protective of her, having been in her life for as long as he could remember, and having taken her in when the streets had become her home. He turned to Martha, saw the glisten of tears in her eyes.

He remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. He had been walking home one night from the pub. He had had too many when he became aware of the figure lying on the ground outside an empty and derelict building. Wrapped in thread-bare blankets that were thin enough that you could see through them, in the middle of winter, was a young girl. He had stumbled over to make sure that whoever it was had not perished in the bitter cold night. As he had stepped closer, wide eyes had met his own, and that was when he realised the situation he now found himself in. She had the same look of worry in her eyes sitting at the table with Kimber as that night he found her. She was frightened.

As he stared at her, taking in her fearful eyes, he remembered back to that night. A picture film began playing in his mind.

 _As he stumbled closer to the mound of blankets, he was unaware of what he would find. He came to stop, his eyes trying to navigate the figure hidden underneath. He cleared his throat, trying to capture their attention. A thick accent could be heard, but he was unable to comprehend what the person had said. The blankets began to move, and like a second skin, was shed and thrown to the cold ground as a young girl stood in front of him._

 _He took a moment to take in her appearance. She was shorter than him; her hair was clasped together in a messy and knotted bun; her dress was revealing and hung off her small frame; and lipstick was smeared around her mouth._

 _"Full sex is two and a half shillings," she said into the darkness. "A finger is three and a half shillings."_

 _He was taken aback. He took another moment to look at her properly. It was then that he sobered, and noticed that she was younger than what he had originally believed her to be._

 _"Seeing as you're a younger and handsomer client, I'll give you a discount," she whispered seductively. She leaned against the brick wall, and slipped the strap of her dress off her shoulder to reveal more of her chest. Tommy automatically looked away._

 _She spoke again, and he would never forget her words. "Looking is free. But sooner or later, you'll want to touch me. Men like you always do."_

 _Tommy moved to the mound of blankets, and lifted one up. He passed it to her._

 _"Cover yourself up," Tommy said sharply. The tone of his voice was enough for her to slowly slide the strap back up her shoulder and grab the blanket from him. Once she was covered, he looked back at her. "How old are you?"_

 _She smirked. "Old enough."_

 _"How old are you?"_

 _"I can be whatever age you want me to be."_

 _Tommy furrowed his brow at her comment. "Where did you come from?"_

 _"Can't say."_

 _"How old are you?" He repeated for the third time._

 _"Eighteen," she said quickly. He took a step closer to her and shook his head._

 _"There's no way you're eighteen," he commented. "My sister is young, and even you look younger than her."_

 _"Well, I must have good skin," she smirked. "Got it from my mam."_

 _"Where you come from? Why are you here in Small Heath?"_

 _It was then that she faltered, and Tommy could see that she was scared and frightened. Her entire body tensed at the seriousness in his voice._

 _"I ain't running from no-one," she said._

 _"I didn't ask that," he responded with a furrowed brow. "Have you eaten?"_

 _With a small shake to her head, Tommy nodded. He continued. "When did you last have a hot dinner?"_

 _The silence that came from her answered his question for him._

She had been so young and naïve, and her circumstances were something he never imagined. She had been neglected by her family one day and had been left on the streets with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wandered aimlessly through the streets of Birmingham asking people if they had seen her family, but they had all moved away from her like she had been riddled with the plague. It had been two days and there had been no sign of her family, when she had bumped into a woman who oozed grace and beauty and took her in like she was her own children, no questions asked.

But the woman had harboured a dark secret. Her wealth came from the work of other girls. It wasn't until she was twelve – two short years after first meeting her - that she understood why she lived in a house full of girls where men visited them at all hours of the day. And it was then that she understood first hand the trap she had been led into.

She had worked at the brothel for three years with every day being the same as the last. The urge to escape had always been at the forefront of her mind, but she had limited options. The majority of her money went to Madam Katharine, and the remaining money would be spent on board and food. She began to save money here and there, knowing that the time would come when she would need it. There was no way she was going to spend her remaining years living and working within the house. Though it was grand and beautiful outside, it was hell inside.

And one day, she had run as fast as she could away from that life she was so ashamed of. The house had fallen silent as night fell, and she knew it was her time to change her life.

The world had been dark and unwelcoming as she ran through the empty streets of Birmingham. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't know how long she would survive, but she knew it was better than being in that house again. She would never return, she promised herself that.

And the girl that sat before Tommy now was so different to the girl he met that night. He had brought her home much to Aunt Pol's disgust, but with a hot bath to erase the months of dirt upon her skin, they were finally able to see the potential in her. She was bright and smart, and was simply a girl who had fallen in with the wrong crowd. They offered her food, and a seat by the warm fire, and she spoke about the abuse she had endured, the things she would do to survive, and Tommy had felt anger course through his veins at the thought of young Ada having to endure that.

He had found out that she was a few months younger than Ada who at sixteen years old seemed younger than her. She was street smart, had worked for three years in a brothel, and had spent the time she wasn't with clients reading as many books as she could find in the room filled with books.

They offered her a place to stay; a roof over her head, warm food in her stomach, and the love and support of a family. It had been everything she had wanted. But there had been a price and one that she had promised to keep more for herself than anyone else, and that was to never return to that life again.

Years had passed them by and she had thrived living within the Shelby house. And though Ada had Tommy as a brother, it was clear that both Martha and Tommy didn't share that type of relationship. Tommy was older but not by that much, and to her sixteen years of age, he had been twenty-one. And over the years they had fallen in love with each other, which Aunt Pol had told him to be careful of, knowing the downfall of a man in love. They had promised themselves for each other with the notes they would write each other and push underneath the door, with the gazes they would share, the smirks and the secret hand holding.

And then World War One had broke out, and the lives of men all around the world were hung by a delicate thread. And the plans they'd had to leave the coal covered streets were cut with sharp scissors.

"You know Tommy," Kimber began, grabbing the glass of wine in front of Tommy and gulping it down. "You've changed. We went to war together. We've seen the same things. But you're different. You're damaged, Tommy."

When Tommy refused to look at him and kept his gaze reassuringly upon Martha, he calmed his breathing down as much as he could despite feeling the familiar panic rush through his body. But that only seemed to fuel Kimber more.

"After everything we've been through… you still want to bring trouble to my door?" Kimber asked, to which Tommy then turned his attention to him.

"I haven't brought trouble to your door, Kimber," Tommy hit back. "What's that quote? Don't shit on your own door step? That's the one. You caused all this trouble, Kimber, and expected me to clean it up after you. We could've worked together well like we did over in France, but you're greedy and I don't like that."

Kimber stared at him for a moment before a smirk crept upon his face. "Is that so, Shelby?"

"Yeah, it is…" Tommy leant in closer. "And you know what? You coming here this evening has proved to me that working with you would've been hell on earth."

Kimber kept his smirk. "You get things wrong, Tommy. Nobody works with me. People work for me."

"And those men who work for you mustn't be all there, Kimber," Tommy replied. He looked behind Kimber, seeing the familiar faces of his brothers swarm the large restaurant. "Now I suggest you leave quietly."

As Kimber realised that he was outnumbered by the Peaky Blinders, he glanced at his men and nodded curtly. He stood and with one last smirk in their direction, mostly at Martha, they left the restaurant and were followed out by Tommy's men.

As the chatter within the restaurant continued, Tommy moved his attention onto Martha who was sat quietly.

"Would you like to go home?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she answered strongly. "I want to go to a party."


End file.
